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“Holton Terrace”By: Timothy A. G. CooperPreludeShe was dreaming of Grandma again.Her mind itself was comprehensive, not unlike an adult’s, clear and alert. And yet she realized that this was different. She was standing on a knife edge between Earth and reality. When she looked down at her hands, she surprisingly noticed first that they were wet. Between them was a large slice of watermelon, which she appeared to have already taken a few bites of. The juice of the fruit coated her hands, running down her wrists and forearms, dripping onto the porch floor. She could feel it drying quickly beneath the heat of the sun.The second thing she noticed was how small her hands were. They were no longer large and rough like a man’s. No veins bulged out from the backs of her hands as she had become accustomed to. These hands of hers were smaller, smoother. They seemed to glow in perfection and youth.For reasons unknown and unimportant to her, she raised her eyes slowly. It seemed as though the smoky dust and sunlight in the air consciously wafted out of her direct view. She noticed that she was on the porch of her childhood, Grandma’s porch. The dirty white and pale green of the old, painted railings were a great comfort to her in their familiarity. She was aware of someone sitting in a rocking chair a few feet ahead of her, the hem of their skirts dancing as they gently rocked again and again. She did not yet know who the person was, but she could feel their love and calm tenderness. She could feel that she was safe.Her gaze drifted up towards her loved one’s face, and she saw Grandma sewing and rocking, sewing and rocking, back and forth. She did not speak as she watched Grandma. She simply looked, relishing the extra opportunity to do so. She paid special attention to the concentration etched in Grandma’s face. There were hardly any lines there. Grandma seemed to be resting while her hands did all of the work, and at such peace that there had been no recollection of anything else.Grandma’s eyes looked toward her suddenly, and she smiled at her. The old lady’s smile was so wonderfully full of love and awesome pride that this little-girl version of her did not think twice about smiling back.Slowly, Grandma began to lean forward in her rocking chair until her face was only inches away. Grandma reached out one hand to cup her chin gently. “My beautiful child,” her grandma said. “Ephphatha.” Grandma’s other hand reached over, and now she could feel the warmth of the old woman’s hands on her cheeks and saw the tears of endearment in her eyes as they caught the sun. “It means ‘to open.’”Suddenly, she awoke, instantly knowing that she had been dreaming. She refused to open her eyes yet in futile hope that she could just walk back into the dream as if it were a room. Her heart ached so profoundly for a little more time with Grandma that she was not surprised to find it hard to breathe.Her eyes flew open. Something was not right.Even in the pitch blackness of the room, she could see - or more properly, sense - the smoke before her, as thick as a carpet.Her feet swung out of the bed and onto the floor. She sat up, and for some reason, it became even harder to breathe. Clumsily, frantically, her hand reached for the bedside lamp and turned it on, almost knocking it over in her haste.The smoke that filled the room did not move for her as the smoke of her dream did. This smoke appeared permanent, stubborn. A scratch rose in the back of her throat, almost like pepper without the flavor. Slipping her feet into her house shoes, she leaped up and grabbed the doorknob to rush out of the room.The doorknob felt scorching hot, and she jerked her hand back right away. When she looked at it, it was red and glistening. Her mind registered that the house must be on fire. Her body reacted, and before she realized it, she had grabbed a shirt from off the floor by the bed and used it to grab the handle and pull the door open.Smoke rushed into the room so thick the lamp light even seemed to be suffocating. The darkness and heat beyond the threshold of the door made her want to remain in the room and simply pray the fire wouldn’t find her. The sounds of the house burning apart piece by piece made her feel useless.But another sound made her feet move into the direction of the danger. The cry of the baby wailed out from one of the rooms, angry and insistent. Despite her fear and confusion, the woman stepped out into the hall with rubbery knees.She knew that Master and Lady Finnegan’s bedroom was on the other side of the large house, away from the servants’ wing. This must have been where the fire began, somewhere on that side of the house. The woman stepped carefully but quickly down the hall, feeling with one hand along the wall to get to Ledesa’s room. She was the only one of the servants she knew with a baby so young.The woman soon found Ledesa’s room and stumbled into it. She saw Ledesa sprawled across the bed, lying face-up. Hurriedly, she went to the bed, calling Ledesa’s name. Ledesa did not move, and the woman called her name louder, leaning over into her face and shaking her shoulder roughly. When Ledesa still did not respond, the woman began slapping at her face, yelling her name at the top of her lungs between coughs. Ledesa did not move.The woman looked towards the door. She knew that she had already spent too much time in the house, time that she really did not have. She had to get out before the flames really did find her.Waving her arms before her face in a vain attempt to clear some of the smoke, the woman turned around and found her way to the crib, following the choking cries of the baby.She picked the baby up out of the crib and crouched low to the ground with it. The air was slightly clearer here, but the intensity of the smoke alarmed her. She felt a few trickles of panic flow through her flesh.Pull yourself t’gether, gal, she thought to herself. You grabbed dat baby. Y’gon save it.She wrapped the baby in the folds of her nightgown, gritted her jaws together and ran.She had always been a large woman, “big-boned” as Mrs. Finnegan had once called her. Now as she ran, she could feel the ground shaking beneath her but could barely hear her heavy footfalls over the sound of the burning around her.She reached the veranda, and a section of the roof buckled, crushing the Finnegan’s bedroom like a can. As much as the sight of seeing her masters’ bedroom suddenly demolished before her rattled her nerves, the woman did not pause.She began running down the stairs, and one of her slippers fell off her foot, causing her to stumble against the hand railing. She gripped the baby closer and saw the handrail topple over as though it were made of plastic, and reached out a flailing arm for something else to hold on to. Finding nothing, she leaned over until she toppled against the far wall.She continued to run.Later, they said that when she came barging out of the house, running like a great rhinoceros, her hair had been aflame. But she managed to still clutch the baby to her bosom, even as she fell face-down onto the yard. The people gathered around, tending to the child and slapping quilts across the woman’s body to put out the flames. Portions of her hair flew into the air, settling in the grass like morning dew.She and the baby had been the only survivors.Chapter 1“Mr. Jackson, may I see you in my office, please?”Quinn felt the cold hand of fear on the back of his neck. He had wondered if and when the manager would want to talk to him. As much as he had tried to avoid thinking about the confrontation, something in his conscience kept telling him that this moment was inevitable. The restaurant was empty, but he still felt like turning around and running out of the door, never to return. The only thing that stopped him was not knowing what he would do then, where he would go, how he would eat. Mentally building a wall of steel around his nerves, he leaned his mop against one of the restaurant tables and followed Mr. Nelms into the manager’s office.“Have a seat, Mr. Jackson,” Mr. Nelms said as he took his own behind the manager’s desk. Quinn removed his uniform hat and sat as he was told. “Mr. Jackson, we have already had this discussion before, and yet here we are again. It’s time for some real answers, because it will not continue. What is the problem?”Quinn shrugged. “Ain’t got no problem.”Mr. Nelms sat back in his chair, templing his fingers beneath his bottom lip. He stared at Quinn, who sat calmly and looked back at him. Quinn blinked twice but still said nothing.“Yes, you do, Mr. Jackson,” Mr. Nelms said quietly. His eyes bore into Quinn’s unblinkingly. “You have a problem, and it is creating an even greater problem because you are refusing to deal with it maturely. As you should already know, we received another complaint from Mr. Tyrone Temple about you. The second this month.”Quinn closed his eyes, scratched the back of his head. He sniffed and continued to gaze complacently at Mr. Nelms.Mr. Nelms sat up, folding his hands and leaning close to his desk as if what he had to say was confidential and there were someone present to hear him. “Mr. Jackson, first you poured hamburger grease over Mr. Temple’s French fries, now it’s soap on his hamburger. Usually this would be grounds for automatic termination here at Skippy-Doo-Da’s, but I originally thought you deserved another chance. You’re normally an outstanding worker, one of the best I’ve had the pleasure of managing in a long time. Now, it seems like you’re willing to let Mr. Temple cost you your job, for some reason.”“I told you, Mr. Temple is abusive. Nobody did anything to him or pulled him into any offices for a private talk when he threw food in my face or any of the other workers. Nothing happened when he called us sons of nigger whores or any of the other times that he called us out of our name. In my opinion, if he’s not required to be a good customer, I’m not required to be a good employee.” Quinn’s words were level, softly and professionally spoken. He did not think Mr. Nelms, who was Caucasian himself, really cared about the reasons for his actions. He did not even believe that Mr. Nelms could fully allow himself to question the validity of Quinn’s point. Quinn knew, however, that the job was well worth the effort of at least making an attempt to address his “problem” one more time. Something inside of him, though, told him that Mr. Nelms had called him into his office this evening for one purpose only, and it was not to defend his or anybody else’s honor.Mr. Nelms took off his glasses and set them on top of the desk, rubbed his eyes roughly a couple of times. Folding his hands tightly, he pressed them to his lips. His forehead was wrinkled, and his eyes were red. “Mr. Temple,” he began, “is not being paid to be a good employee, Mr. Jackson, you are. When we here at Skippy-Doo-Da’s pay you, it’s not just to heat up and serve the food. The job consists of delivering outstanding customer service, as well, among other things. The whole thing is supposed to aim at getting our customers to return. Of course, you already know that pouring grease over French fries and soap into hamburgers will not convince them to do that.”Quinn refused to budge. His salary, in his opinion, of $7.15 per hour, was way too small to accept any sort of abuse simply because he happened to be on the wrong side of the counter. Thinking of how disappointed Nanny Ruth would have been that he was losing yet another job, he felt a small lump forming in the back of his throat. Inside he threatened himself not to let this man see any tears on his face, not today, not ever. He sucked at one tooth and continued to look at Mr. Nelms. “You asked.”Mr. Nelms sat back in his chair and folded his arms. His eyes fell suddenly onto the top of his desk, and he pursed his lips. Quinn thought Mr. Nelms almost looked submissive as he listened to the manager speak. “I see. Yes, I did ask, didn’t I? The funny thing is, I already knew when I asked that there is no valid reason to sabotage a customer’s food, under any circumstances. It’s just that, if I am being given no other choice but to lose one of my best men, I’m the type of individual who likes to at least know why. And now that you were open enough to talk to me, there is something I have to suggest. Please-” Mr. Nelms flattened out a hand in midair and finally looked up at Quinn once more - “In the future, learn how to think before you react to a situation that angers you. Until then, Mr. Jackson, you’re fired. You can leave your name badge-”Quinn was already taking it off as he cut Mr. Nelms off. “When can I expect my last paycheck?”Mr. Nelms’ forehead wrinkled. “Excuse me?”Quinn threw his name tag onto the desk and stood up. “When can I expect my last paycheck?”“It will be mailed to your home address within two weeks.” Mr. Nelms continued to sit, glaring up at Quinn over the top of his brow.Quinn turned around and walked out of the office. He was fully aware that what he had done was wrong. Maybe not necessarily unfair but at the same time wrong, if such a thing was possible. And yet, every time he blinked, he saw Nanny Ruth’s cheeks sinking in disappointment. The longer he kept his eyes open, the faster the familiar feeling of living on the street came back to him. The memories sent jolts of anger and desperation ripping through his stomach repeatedly. He walked past the mop bucket on his way to the door, kicking it to the far side of the restaurant and into the trash receptacles. He heard the water and mop explode out of the bucket but kept walking without bothering to turn and see the results. He took a very small comfort in the fact that he knew Mr. Nelms would have to clean it up himself.On the five minute walk home, Quinn saw a parked bus on a corner at a red light. He watched in amazement as a young man in black jeans and a white tank top jumped up at one of the windows, yanked someone’s necklace off their neck and ran.Walking through the foyer of his building, Quinn stopped to check his mailbox, although he already knew what he would find. He grabbed the handful of bills and went on up to his apartment through the black halls, only vaguely noticing the smell of vomit, urine and old cooking grease. When he got to his apartment on the third floor, he stopped for almost two minutes, wrestling with his emotions as he stared at the eviction notice taped and waiting on the front of his door.By the time he moved again, he had decided to turn around and go to the store instead of walking into the apartment just yet. He bought a tin of potted meat and a gallon of water while he was there. On his way home again, he had convinced himself that it was time to take a chance on his dreams for once. His true dream was simply to dance, but with this last paycheck from Mr. Nelms and the rest of the Skippy-Doo-Da freaks, he could invest into finding a studio and trying to start his own dance school. He had $37.12 saved in an account at Softshell Bank, and he would just have to make it stretch as far as food. It was nothing he was not used to.There was no one solid in his life - no one that he knew well enough to ask for help, but only in passing. He would still market this way, however, using word-of-mouth as he went along. He literally didn’t have anything to lose. The way he felt, he did not have anything period, and what he did gain was constantly being lost or taken from him. He felt like a nobody, just a shadow among living pillars of light, permanently separated from the glory of their world.As Quinn sat in his living room windowsill - there was no furniture, only two bags of clothes that he had accumulated over the last three months - and ate three-fourths of the tin of potted meat, he thought once more about Nanny Ruth. And cried.Chapter 2For three days, Quinn spent his time mostly walking the streets. Half of the time he spent walking from grocery store to gas station, from public announcement post to grocery store, searching for posters or magazines advertising cheap studios. He couldn’t look for the average landlord, he knew. He needed a particular kind of person, so his choices were naturally limited. His funds were low, which meant that he had to find something cheap, convince the individual to lease to him for a short period of time - just enough to get his feet wet. And he had to do this without the convenience of a phone if he wanted to have enough money for potted meat and maybe milk at the end of the day.He did all of his traveling by foot, visiting managers and bargaining, pleading, explaining, promising. He believed he needed to find someone compassionate, someone who would be able to sympathize. This person would definitely not be wealthy or aloof, so he was not surprised to find most of the dirt cheap studios in the ghetto neighborhoods of Holton Terrace, New York. He was not even surprised to see how many of these people were not so compassionate that they wanted to pretend not to mind hearing him explain that he was homeless with no form of income or living family, but that if given the chance to lease for just one month, he would guarantee to pay full rent on time. What did surprise him, however, was how out of every single person he talked to, not one was willing to at least think on the idea before automatically deciding that the answer would be no.“I would be willing to sign a contract or promissory note!” he told a few of the landlords he spoke to. They all cut his plea off with the slam of the door.Perhaps, he said to himself, he had been too gullible or immature to even hope that anyone would want to rent to a no one with nothing. After about the fiftieth rejection on the third day, he had to sit down on a park bench and take a moment to regroup. He felt more like he had lost a long wrestling match than simply apartment hunting. His depression, which he had stored into a box hidden away at the corner of his heart, began to leak out and spread through his spirit like lava on the rocks.As the sun began to go down over the city, he looked up from his desperation and self-pity at the sound of a commotion behind him. Half a block away, two men were jumping on one, ramming his head against the back bumper of a car continuously. Finally, they dropped the man onto the ground, gave him a few kicks and stomps, and ran, leaving the man to roll around there, holding his injured skull.Quinn decided maybe it was time to head back home. He said a quick prayer for the beaten man, whom he had wanted to help but whom he also knew was probably in a better position to help Quinn than Quinn was to help him or himself. Most likely, the man would go home and eat a warm meal and lie in an actual bed to heal, which was more than Quinn could do.When Quinn made it to the place he would call home only for two days more, he checked his mailbox, as usual. His last check from Skippy-Doo-Da’s was there, boasting $549.30. What am I going to do?, Quinn asked himself.Worry kept Quinn awake at the window all night, but when the sun peeped over the horizon to spy on the city again, he had a different mindset, had done his own healing, as slight and makeshift as it was. He believed that he knew what he had to do.He fixed himself a peanut butter sandwich on wheat bread, brushed his teeth with baking soda and headed out to cash his check at the Currency Exchange. The lady behind the counter who helped him asked how he wanted his money back, and he requested all large bills. On his way out of the door, he picked up a copy of the Holton Terrace Line, the city magazine that displayed the T.V. guide, horoscopes and other advertisements throughout the week.There was an advertisement of a studio space on 175th and Bremen, in the heart of one of the worse neighborhoods in the city. Quinn had heard many stories about this side of the city and how dangerous it was. It started out as a highly industrialized area that soon began to be bought up by club and then bar tycoons. With this change came the prostitution, drugs and gang bangers. Pimps began buying out the tycoons and building residential areas they could sell to. Because the neighborhood paid the police captain a hefty offering and no one but scum wanted to live in the area, anyway, the authorities rarely bothered to patrol here or answer when called. As time went on, not even the scum wanted to live in the area, and now it was mostly an abandoned area with people who lived in darkness and filth, alone with their crack pipes, sleeping among the rats and the shadows.Quinn used to have a friend named Stacy or Stay-Roc who had lived in the area before it became such a wasteland. Stay-Roc told him that they had neighbors in the apartment next door when he was seven years old. He and his nine-year-old brother would listen from their rooms whenever the man of the apartment would come home drunk and beat his wife. The sounds were so brutal and terrifying that Stay-Roc and his brother didn’t know any other way to keep each other calm than to look at each other and laugh, trying to maintain some sort of normalcy in spite of the situation. All eyes, ears, mouths and hearts were closed until the landlord found the husband’s body propped neatly at the kitchen table with an assortment of knives and forks spread out upon the tabletop. A butcher knife jutted out of the side of his neck. It took two hours for the authorities to come and remove the body. By the time they got there, the housewife had returned to the apartment and was sitting there next to her husband, cooing at him and trying to feed him cold roast beef and mashed potatoes clumped in gravy.But Quinn paused at the advertisement. He stared at it, read it again. “Studio at 12735 W. Bremen Street. $175/mth. All utilities included. Call Reggie at 332-7739 for a viewing appointment.”Quinn couldn’t even imagine passing the opportunity up. All utilities included? It was perfect! Even if the place was the size of a walk-in closet, Quinn didn’t need a lot of space to do business from. Dancing could be done outside. He just needed a storage space. Not to mention, the place would offer at least some sort of shelter from the rain and cold, if truly necessary. Otherwise, Quinn honestly was well familiar with sleeping outdoors and did not find it too uncomfortable. For some reason, no one seemed to bother or even notice him, anyway, even if they looked directly at his prone body.Quinn had to see the apartment. He tore the page out of the magazine, folded it and stuffed it into his back pocket. It took him forty-five minutes to walk to 118th and Bremen, where he saw a red payphone, lonely and worn. Anticipation made his hands quiver in the 70-degree weather as he slipped a coin into the telephone.“Yeah,” the deep, muffled voice answered on the second ring.“Hello. I’m calling for a Mr. Reggie, please.” Quinn felt like he was on another job interview. He tried to sound as professional as he could, although he wasn’t too sure what “professional” should sound like.“This is Reggie,” the voice barked.“How you doing, Mr. Reggie,” Quinn said. He could hear through the phone that Reggie was not one for small talk and, if he was, he was not in the mood for it now. Quinn rushed on without bothering to pause too long to wait for an answer. “I was wondering about an ad I saw in the New York Line for a studio for $175 a month, all utilities included.”Reggie grunted. “Uh-huh. What about it?”Quinn paused. The landlord’s temperament was not encouraging. He felt in his pocket, reassuring himself with the feel of the wad of money inside. “Is it, uh, possible for me to see it?”There was a pause on the line. Quinn could hear the drone of a television and the crackle of something frying in the background. When Reggie still didn’t say anything, Quinn opened his mouth to speak. Suddenly, he was interrupted by the dry, hoarse sound of a woman speaking in the background, high-pitched and inaudible.“Okay, okay, gotdamnit, I’mma eat when I get a minute!” Reggie said, apparently to the woman. “Alright, meet me at the front of the building. You got the address?”Quinn knew it by heart, but pulled the ad out of his pocket, anyway. “Yeah. 127th and Br-” He was cut off by the sound of the call being disconnected.Quinn walked three times as fast to his destination. Chapter 3Holton Terrace held approximately 70,000 people. The city was a commercial suburb area of New York City when it was first founded. As Holton Terrace became more and more commercialized, the medium wealth began to move in. The Civil Rights movement kicked in just as Holton Terrace was beginning to grow comfortable in its own Beverly Hills 90210 skin, however, and an increasing number of African-American New Yorkers began pressing their claim on territories outside of Harlem, Brooklyn, Queens and the norm. Soon, as more low-wealth minorities began moving to Holton Terrace, bringing certain problematic behaviors and lifestyles with them, desirability and land value began to decline. The commercial hubs began to move to areas where fighting, solicitation and being held up at gunpoint were less of a common problem, and the residential areas were then being taken over by the low-wealth. Now, there only remained a little over 10,000 medium - and high-wealth residents in Holton Terrace, living predominantly on the outskirts of the city, as far away from the dangerous heart as possible.This particular neighborhood, however - between 102nd and 136th and Bremen - gave Quinn the creeps even more than the rest of the city. The streets were too dark, quiet and dusty here. Not even the current drug-ridden occupants could be seen loitering on the porches as in other areas of the city. A brown bag blew with the leaves, dancing in the September wind, but nothing else moved. The streets of Holton Terrace were usually busy regardless of time of day. People drove, walked, talked, yelled, sat, ran in the streets in most neighborhoods, but this particular area along Bremen Street was quite evidently barren grounds for disaster anticipating.Quinn could not help casting furtive glances over his shoulder no more than he could help hiding the fact that he was being so watchful. Quinn’s reaction was not out of necessity or paranoia. He could feel the emptiness, and he knew that no one was watching him. His observances were simply a force of habit, not unlike smoking. The fact that there was no one around to cause reason for him to be so aware here made Quinn all the more nervous because it could not shake his sudden attack of danger, of fear.Because his eyes were continuously searching, he saw Reggie a few blocks before he actually reached the block of the building, although at first it didn’t register who or what he was looking at. He had, in fact, forgotten that he had been supposed to be meeting Reggie. His nervousness, for a moment, had robbed him of his undivided attention. Now that he had a little more focus, he called the man’s name to be certain it was him.Reggie was leaning back onto the hood of his car, the only one on the block besides a red rusty Acura a block and a half ahead. He was staring at the ground, smoking a cigarette, as Quinn further approached. Without bothering to look up or respond to his name, Reggie stood upright and walked. He led Quinn west down 127th Street toward the building, fumbling in his pants pocket for the keys. Quinn followed, not breaking a step or bothering to speak, either, because he had seen the man’s name on his jacket. He didn’t want to coerce Reggie into anger or dislike, but he also wanted to show Reggie he could respect his wishes. If Reggie wanted silence, he would grant it to him, along with whatever other rules he might have in order for Quinn to get into that studio. There would be time for talk later.Quinn’s eyes scanned all directions, visually summing Reggie and the building up as he led Quinn to the third story. Reggie wore dirty blue jeans, a blue windbreaker and a green jogging sweater. He was bald, and Quinn could quickly see that he was most likely a 40-year-old who had drank himself into a 60-year-old body. His wrinkles looked dark compared to the bright pink of his jutted bottom lip. Reggie had the walk of a middle-aged man who was full of conceit and greed. Quinn decided he did not like Reggie very much.The building itself was a different story. The front was not much to see - just cool and dark. Quinn could tell that the sun did not shine here very much. The grass was nonexistent, just black smooth dirt with patches of weeds here and there. The face of the building was French Victorian, made of reddish brown and gray brick. The carpet inside was worn, dark green with tiny red diamonds along the borders. The walls were a pale peeling green. Black dirt spots and cobwebs stood out brutishly in sporadic places, still visible through the dust. The wood on the doors of the six studios was a dull but solid oak.Although Quinn was now more interested in the building, a small part of him remained aware that the eerie vibe from outside had followed him into the building, quiet and stealthy.He and Reggie stepped onto the third landing and turned right. Reggie unlocked the door, stepped to the side and waved a hand in front of him, motioning for Quinn to go inside. Quinn did and had to hold back a gasp.The studio was larger and brighter than he had expected. It was nine by eleven feet with windows facing west, onto the street, and north. From this floor, the sunset was actually visible, orange red and yellow. An incredibly small stove and refrigerator was in the northeast corner, as well, appearing not to be much larger than a child’s playset. To the right of the front door was another door leading to a half bathroom. To the left of the front door was a small broom closet. The floors were made of gray slate tile. A building blocked the view in the windows at the north side of the room, and the lack of that building’s windows did nothing to help the lack of character in the room. Quinn’s desperation, however, doubled.“How soon can I fill out a application?” he asked Reggie.“Depends. When you looking to move in?”“As soon as possible.”Reggie walked into the small bathroom, snorting roughly through his nose. He choked up a large wad of phlegm from the back of his throat and spit it into the toilet. Not bothering to flush it, he turned to look at Quinn again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.“How old are you, kid?” he asked, his eyes squinting.“Nineteen.”“You know, I don’t allow no drug selling and drug using and all that. We don’t need no police being called for shit ‘round here, y’understand?”“I don’t sell or use drugs, sir.”Reggie paused. “You got a job?” He asked the question as if he were hurling an insult.“No, sir,” Quinn answered, and instantly he saw the corner of Reggie’s mouth begin to rise into a sneer.Quickly, Quinn pulled out the wad of bills from his coat pocket. “But I do have this - $525 for three months’ rent here at 12735 W. Bremen Street, Apt. 6, Holton Terrace, New York.” He watched Reggie’s sneer quiver and could almost swear he could see the corner of the man’s mouth glisten with greed. It dawned on Quinn at that moment for the first time that Reggie was most likely mentally counting off how many crack rocks he could buy with $525, watching them all jump one by one over a pretty pink little picket fence in his mind. Encouraged that the landlord might be every bit as desperate as himself, Quinn plunged on. “At the end of three months, I guarantee I’ll have more. If I don’t, I’ll be more than happy to leave.”Reggie finally licked the corners of his mouth, although Quinn found him no less disgusting afterward. When he spoke, Reggie’s voice was softer, a low testimony to even more greed as Reggie’s imaginary rocks now lined up in the pasture, dressed in tutus and ready to dance to his flames. “In the middle of winter, huh?”“In the middle of winter. Trust me, I ain’t trying to have the Sheriff coming out for me no more than you do. I just ain’t got no family and nowhere else to stay. But, as you can see, I work hard, and I’m willing to make my own way. This is three months in advance, so you have more to gain than lose - “Reggie suddenly snatched the money out of Quinn’s hand, counting it as he started to leave the room. “Yeah, yeah, save the speech, boy, I ain’t interested in all that. You got a number I can reach you at?”“No, sir.”Reggie looked up from the money for the first time, still squinting. The sneer began to come back. “I come around every other Friday, starting this week,” he said. “I expect my tenants to be available when I do.”He turned around and began to walk back down the stairs, choking up another ball of phlegm as he stepped out into the darkening fall.Chapter 4Quinn spent the rest of the night falling asleep face-to-face with the night lit sky, his butt on the floor and his back against the eastern wall. When he awoke the next morning, the first thing he did was grab his two trash bags’ worth of belongings and bring them over to the studio. They were heavy enough to make Quinn stop several times on the way for a rest, but he felt it well worth the effort. He was out before the five-day deadline and actually had an idea where to go. Now he had to find a way to keep the studio, but he would take things one step at a time.By the time he had finally gotten his belongings back on Bremen, the sunset was there to greet him again, dressed in her dazzling gown of grapefruit. As he feasted on milk and Vienna sausages, he thanked God and his Nanny Ruth for his good fortune.He sat for a moment afterward, relishing peace for a change. It was not often that he felt this way - this happy, this satisfied - so his inexperience with the emotion made him feel it all the more.He felt like dancing.Suddenly, he was off the floor and zipping up his jacket - a large, somewhat thick red- and black-checkered hoodie with a black hood. It was not much, slightly worn, but in combination with a sweater or two, it had gotten Quinn through several winters. He was sure that it would do just fine for tonight.The night, by this time, had fully fallen, trailed by a cool fog that had no negative effects on the beauty of the hour. There was an old abandoned high school three blocks away with an attached basketball court, wide and empty. He headed for it, feeling like a child approaching the gates to a noisy, well-lit theme park.The walk was short, and Quinn could hear an up-tempo rhythm beating in his head along the way. The echo of the bass seemed muffled at first but gradually grew until he could even feel it stomping in his chest. By the time he made it to the gated entry of the court, he could no longer contain the need to dance. He walked through the opening in the fence, throwing his windbreaker off to the side. Taking a running start, he flipped forward into the air. When his feet hit the ground again, he erupted into dance. The top half of his body swerved to the right and locked while his legs popped into opposite directions at the knees. Bringing his knees together again, he faced his left. The top half of his body glided to the left and locked into place. Arms waving, he did a falling backward motion until he suddenly stopped and dropped his rump to the ground, folding his arms across his chest and bowing his face toward his knees. Leaning forward, he placed his hands on the ground and lifted his body into the air. Like a yoga performer, his legs locked into one shape then fluidly locked into another. Like legos, his arms bent into different forms.Snap!His body clicked into a scorpion-like shape for a few seconds before coming down on the cement in a split. He put his chest to the ground and pushed back up with his hands. One leg swung out and around his body, his other leg flipping up to make way.He break-danced freely for a few seconds longer, thinking of nothing until, out of nowhere, he looked up and saw another dancing figure a few feet away from him. He stopped to watch.At first, the figure could have been a black ghost dressed in a blue sweater and jogging pants and a white towel around its neck, for all Quinn knew. But in the middle of the dancing, the hood of the sweater flew off, and Quinn could see that it was a young man he didn’t know.But the boy could dance.He copied every move Quinn had made as if he had been doing the same dance routine for years. Quinn was so impressed that at first he began to think that it was obvious that this character was no one he should bother getting to know. His focus was not on making friends but on finding people he could teach. But then a little whisper in his ear said maybe this person could help him find other more useful people or maybe even help him teach. To him, it was like a sign from Nanny Ruth that maybe he was on the right path for once since she passed. Thinking of her so strongly made the pain come back, and Quinn felt the need to dance, like a tidal wave, follow close behind.He spent nearly another hour silently exchanging dance choreography with the stranger.********************************“So, what’s your name, cuzo?” the stranger asked, extending his hand.They gave a basic street handshake, gasping from the workout.“Quinn.”“What’s good, Quinn? I’m Nikko. How long you been dancing?”Quinn shrugged. “All my life, really. Ever since I can remember.”“Yeah, I can tell you a professional ‘cause you pick up on new shit real quick. Like me.”Quinn picked up right away how Nikko couldn’t give him the compliment without also complimenting himself at the last minute, and it made him smile. Nikko smiled back. Quinn guessed that, although he didn’t really trust Nikko yet, at least he liked him a little better than his new landlord.“Wasn’t that hard,” he said, wiping his forehead with his arm.“Yeah, just be glad I took it easy on you, mafukka,” Nikko said, and they both chuckled. Nikko bent over at the waist and placed his hands on his knees, catching his breath. Spit squirt from between his teeth and hit the pavement. “So, Quinn, what you doin’ out here dancin’ by yaself?”Quinn shrugged, fanning himself by flapping the front of his jacket around. “Just bored, I guess.” He didn’t know Nikko well enough to feel comfortable telling him about Nanny Ruth or struggling to escape homelessness just by the hairs of his chinny-chin-chin and the release of expressing his mixed emotions through dance. The small voice chimed in with its two cents worth once again. “Be sociable,” the voice whispered. “Remember, he might be able to help. And, right now, you need as much of that as you can get.”Aloud, Quinn said, “Probably head back to the studio in a little bit and catch some sleep, but right now I just got so much energy.”Nikko looked up. “Oh, yeah? So you got a studio, huh?”“Yeah, man. Just got it today. Gonna run a dance school outta it. That’s why I’m so excited, yo. This could finally be the luck I need, my time, you know what I’m sayin’?”“Your time to shine, huh? Yeah, yeah, I feel you.” At least Nikko was interested. His eyes squinted a little. “A dance school, huh?”“Hell, yeah.” Now that Quinn could see the hook was already bitten, he decided to try reeling it in. “You a dancing fool, son. Shit, you should come through if you feel like helping me teach some time.”Right away, it was like Quinn had promised him a million bucks. Nikko perked up, grinning from ear to ear. Standing upright, he sauntered over and threw an arm around Quinn’s neck. “Psssh! For sho, cuzo! Shit, we can go there right now, you can show me where it’s at! You ain’t doin’ shit right now.” He started leading Quinn out of the court, practically bouncing with each step. “So what’s gon’ be the name of your new school?”Quinn took a moment to think about this. He had had very little time to come up with a name, although he had a few ideas. “What you think about Underrated Works?”“Underrated Works?” Nikko stopped in his tracks, and Quinn turned around to look at him. Nikko’s face was scrunched up, and Quinn could almost hear him ridiculing the name before he actually said anything. “Man, that shit is HOT!” Nikko exclaimed, swinging his arm in the air on the last word.He threw an arm around Quinn’s neck again, talking nonstop about how sad it was that everything else seemed so overrated.Chapter 5Nikko turned out to be full of energy - just a live version of Tigger from Winnie the Pooh. Constantly moving, he seemed to be in all directions at once, loudly talking about nothing and everything at the same time. Every once in a while, a joke would fly out of his mouth, then he would talk about something else as if he never even heard himself. Although he was supposed to have been leading the way back to the studio, Quinn was instead the one feeling a little breathless from trying to keep up with Nikko’s footsteps, and his head was swimming from trying to keep up with the conversation.“Look at this shit, G!” Nikko exclaimed, scrambling into the studio as soon as Quinn had the door unlocked. He turned to the left. “Got the closet.” He turned to the right. “Got the bathroom. Hooty-hoo!” He stepped a little further into the room and turned to the left again. “Got a big ass window.” He opened the window and stuck his head out. “Yeah, I’m here! What you want?” he called out to someone who wasn’t there. “Hell, naw, I ain’t got no mafukkin’ twenty dollars, got damn it! Where the two dollars I loant you the other day?! You know me and Lil’ Quay-Quay gotta eat!” He pulled the window closed and looked at Quinn. “Niggas,” he said, shaking his head in disgust. He crossed over to the other wall of the studio and looked down at the kitchen sink. “Got the little Tiny Tots kitchen goin’ on,” he said as Quinn slid back into the same position on the floor as before. Nikko began testing the dials on the stove. “Make hellified crayon stew and fake tea on this bad boy right here.” He opened the oven door and closed it again right away. “Damn,” he said, almost serious for a change. “Mafukka got hot QUICK! Almost burnt my facial hair off on the right side.” He bent over in Quinn’s direction, waving his hand in a large circle over the side of his face.Quinn blinked once and looked at him for a few seconds before smiling and waving Nikko off. “Man, get yo’ ass outta here,” he said, shaking his head. “You’d be eating that shit by yo’ damned self, burnt hairs and all. Me? I’m having some real food. Soon as I can, I’m buying some Ramen noodles.”“Ramen noodles? Nigga, I’m a Villareaux. Don’t you know we burns in the kitchen?” Nikko sat down against the wall across from Quinn, beneath the large window. “So, what’s good, Quinn? You say you got a school. How many students?”Quinn hesitated, then knew he had already answered Nikko without speaking, so he might as well say it aloud. “Zero.” Quickly, he tried to cover it up. “But that’s where you come in, Nikko. Brother, as you can see, we have a space. Damn it, and we got the skills.” He held two fingers up from each hand and began tapping them together. “Can you put two and two together?”Nikko stared at Quinn. Slowly, his face began to ball up again. “Man, I need a job, Quinn! I can’t sit up here playing games wit’ you-” He looked over at the kitchen area. “Or your little baby oven. I need cash!” He sat up, lightly tapping the back of one hand into the palm of the other for emphasis. “I need money, nigga! I got a little brother out here, man, that I’m taking care of, and we ain’t got no food-,” He spread his arms out at the walls. “We ain’t got no studio. How we supposed to live while I’m tap dancing around town wit’ your ass, trying to help you wit’ your shit?”Quinn was a little taken aback by how quickly Nikko had become so very serious. “What’s good, Nikko?” he asked. “Since you asked me, I’mma ask you. How many times is someone gonna throw a job in your lap during your lifetime? Do you want this opportunity or not?”Nikko’s face fell. Slowly, he got up and started heading toward the door. Inside, Quinn kicked himself squarely in the ass and threatened himself that what he was about to do had better not be a mistake. “Nikko.”Nikko turned around, put his hand on the doorknob. He pulled the door open and waited.Again, Quinn hesitated. The objective of obtaining the studio and resolving to teach dance was to earn money so that he himself could live and eat. But now he hated the fact that he knew he felt insecure about doing it alone, and the ideal person who could dance well enough to make him feel confident enough to work with expected to live and eat with him. In Quinn’s mind, the most he could do was hope that after the school began showing enough profit, he could move into an actual apartment and maybe move the school into something big, maybe the size of a ballroom. But if he eventually had to give up the studio as a living space out of fairness to his employee, he didn’t want Nikko to think it would be different for him or his brother. “All of us can chill out here until we get this shit off the ground, but y’all gotta pay y’all fair share outta what y’all make, too.”The light switch turned again, and Nikko’s whole demeanor changed into the bouncy, happy-go-lucky personality of before. He slammed the door closed and walked back over to Quinn, his hand extended for a handshake. “Got damn it, God bless you, Quinn! That’s what the fuck I’m talking about, baby! Nigga, I knew you was cool!”Quinn gave him the handshake. “Yeah, a’ight, a’ight, it’s cool, man, whatever,” he said.Suddenly, he was being pulled to his feet and hugged quickly but tightly. Quinn was shocked to see that Nikko’s eyes were actually wet, even though not a tear fell. “Naw, G, thank you, man. Thank you. You just don’t know how much I appreciate this, man.” He took another look around the studio. “I gotta go get my brother.” He turned around toward the door, but then turned back to Quinn. “Nigga, I swear, you must be sent by God or some shit.”Quinn found it strange that suddenly he felt like he was on the other side of the landlord-renter relationship. “Nikko, how old is you and your brother, man, before you go?”Nikko stopped dead in his tracks, and his head fell slightly. “Eighteen.” He paused. “My brother seventeen.”“It’s something you not telling me, Nikko, it’s all over you, pimpin’. You really should be real so you ain’t gotta act so nervous. I mean, where your brother at? Where y’all living? How come you gotta raise him by yourself?”“’Cause, man,” Nikko said, turning around. His eyes were dry again. “Yeah, I guess I do owe you the truth, letting me and mines move in here and all, huh?” He walked back over to the window and stood there looking out onto the street. “Mama and Daddy….” He paused, and Quinn stood silently for a moment. “Our Mama and Daddy died in a boating accident almost five years ago. They… won a cruise to Jamaica from work - my dad did, you know, one of those three day, two night for two hook-ups people hardly ever win. My dad got picked for the cruise because the only other award was a promotion, and I guess he wasn’t the right color for that one, even though they told him it was because ‘Mr. Pinkenbright’ had been with the company longer and worked just as well. I mean, maybe I’m just sayin’ that ‘cause he was my pops and shit, yeah, whatever.” Nikko sat underneath the window again, although Quinn continued to stand. Sighing, Nikko continued. “Anyway, of course he took ma along with him, but they couldn’t afford to take me and my little brother. I mean, I was thirteen and he was twelve, so I guess they thought it was about time for us to start learning how to be more responsible, anyway, and they told us to call them right away if anything went wrong. But then when something went wrong, I couldn’t call ‘em.” Nikko looked Quinn squarely in the eye, and although his eyes were now dry, Quinn could see the firmness in his jaw and the pain in his eyes. Softly, he said, “The boat caught on fire and sank in the middle of the Atlantic, and they didn’t make it, Quinn. I been left with my brother ever since, and man, it’s been hard. He sleep under the viaduct over there by the high school we just came from, that’s how I saw you over there dancing. And I gotta thank God that I did because you a blessing, G.” Nikko got up again to give Quinn another handshake and hug. “Thank you, Quinn. I can’t say it enough. Thank you.”Now that Quinn knew about Nikko’s background and saw that Nikko could be open and genuine with him, he felt less remorse about making the deal with Nikko. Admittedly, he still didn’t necessarily trust Nikko, and definitely not his brother because he hadn’t even met him yet. But Quinn felt comfortable enough to share the room with Nikko temporarily. Returning Nikko’s hug for the first time, he said, “Man, trust me, I know how it is on the streets. Don’t worry about it, just remember to do what you gotta do to help me out with Underrated Works so we can both make some cash and move out of this studio.”Nikko nodded. “Fa sho.”Quinn pulled back but held the handshake and looked Nikko in the eyes again. “And keep your brother in check.”“Lil bro? Aw, man, wait till you meet him, you’ll see. That nigga will not be a problem.”“Yeah, a’ight,” Quinn said, walking toward the door. “Let’s go get your brother, then. And when we get back I’mma expect some of that mafukkin’ Crayon soup, too.”Chapter 6On the way to pick up his little brother, Nikko filled Quinn in on a few more small details about his personal history. Nikko was obviously not very shy, and his sense of humor made him easy to listen to.His dad, to Quinn, sounded a little verbally and physically abusive, and his mom seemed to have turned a blind eye to anything her husband did, although Nikko didn’t necessarily say these words. Nikko seemed to brag about the way his father had handled his mother, but Quinn noticed how Nikko tried with all his might to avoid giving too many details about how his father handled his children.Nikko’s real name was Dominique, and his brother was named DeSardi, or Soddy for short. Soddy had always been the quiet one, but he could dance just as well as his brother. Nikko bragged about his skill with repeating choreography, but he confessed that Soddy had always been the expert when it came to variety. According to Nikko, Soddy not only knew street dances but also ballet, tap dancing and even salsa and merengue. Quinn could see dollar signs floating around in his head, although he didn’t confess this to Nikko.Quinn followed Nikko to a short, filthy viaduct on the other side of the school’s basketball court. An old railroad under construction ran above. They found Soddy buried beneath a pile of newspapers and bags filled with discarded insulation and large wads of cotton. The familiar sight brought back shards of fear that made Quinn very quiet for a moment.Gently, Nikko shook Soddy awake and explained what had taken place while he was asleep. “Blessed are the merciful,” Soddy said, smiling and shaking Quinn’s hand. “Matthew 5:5.”Soddy proved to be every bit as mild-mannered as Nikko had told Quinn he was. Quiet and shy, Soddy came across to Quinn as almost childlike, the absolute opposite of his brother.Quinn shot Nikko a strange look, and Nikko chuckled a little. “That’s just him, yo. He’s a little strange, but he cool.”Soddy grabbed Quinn’s hand with both of his. “Thank you,” he said, sincerely. Quinn noticed Soddy’s sunken cheeks and the dark bags beneath his eyes. He felt Soddy shivering fiercely as he held his hand. He wondered how this starved, cold creature could possibly dance as well as Nikko claimed, but the obvious care that Nikko took with Soddy convinced Quinn that he should wait until later to ask Soddy to dance. Little did he know, he wouldn’t have to wait long.Nikko took off his sweatshirt and put it on his little brother, although it was cold enough for all three of them to see their breaths form in front of their faces like smoke from a cigarette. Wrapping an arm around Soddy’s shoulders, Nikko led his brother behind Quinn, and they walked back to the studio. Nikko continued to talk and joke around as if he could not feel the frigid temperature. Quinn saw out the corner of his eye how small and timid Soddy looked, silently huddled in the crook of his brother’s arm and decided that Nikko had been honest in saying that Soddy would not be a physical threat. The streets had obviously already taken a large enough toll on Soddy’s health.When they reached the studio, Quinn offered Nikko a pack of his crackers in exchange for a dollar. He knew what it was to be in Soddy’s position, and he sympathized, but not enough to start giving away food for free. Nikko claimed to have only three dollars left to his name, three dollars that he had begged for many hours to receive from people walking by on the streets, and he really didn’t want to give any of it away. The look in Soddy’s eyes when he saw the pack of crackers, however, left no room for debate.After the crackers had been eaten, Soddy’s eyelids grew heavy, but Nikko urged him into the shower first, which Quinn was grateful for. He knew the warm water would do the boy some good. Minutes after Soddy had dressed again, he was asleep across the floor, his head resting motionlessly in Nikko’s lap.A few minutes later, Nikko bounced his leg roughly and made Soddy jump and stare, wide eyed with fright. Nikko and Quinn looked back at him silently. Seeing that alien spacecraft hadn’t come down from the heavens to begin shooting complex weapons of mass destruction into the room, after all, Soddy wiped the slob from the corner of his mouth and laid his head back on his brother’s thigh. Over his sleeping head, Nikko and Quinn muffled their laughter for nearly ten minutes before falling silent and still for the rest of the night.Eventually, Nikko fell asleep propped up against the wall beneath the window. Quinn could hear his soft snores from across the room. Only then did he allow himself to follow suit.************************************The next morning, Quinn tapped Nikko’s foot with his boot until he awoke. Quinn stood there above him, holding out a dirty worn red sweater. “Your brother can put this on,” Quinn said, “but it’s time to get up. We got work to do.”Nikko put a hand up to shield his eyes and tried to squint and blink through the sunlight in the studio so that he could see Quinn better. “What?”Quinn let the sweater fall to the floor beside Soddy’s head. “I said, ‘Come on, let’s go.’” He looked squarely at Nikko and waited.“Man, we still sleep,” Nikko said. “Where the fuck we finna go?”“We goin’ to do some advertising, that’s where. It’s eight-thirty in the morning, and we got a lot of shit to do. Come on!”“Eight-thirty in the morning?! Man, Quinn, you betta go on with that, man! You can’t wait another couple of hours for this shit?!”Quinn could feel the lava of anger beginning to rise up through his chest and into his face. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Nikko, I ain’t about to hold your motherfuckin’ hand, G. If we don’t pull this off, we - all three of us - is goin’ right back out into the cold. And I ain’t tryin’ to hear that all because I tried to work hand-in-hand wit’ two niggas I hardly even know.”Nikko smacked his lips and snatched up the sweater. “Like I said, you could’ve waited a couple more hours, Quinn.” Nikko wasn’t yelling, but the heat in his voice made Soddy sit up. Cutting his eyes at Quinn, he tossed the sweater over to Soddy. “Put this on.”“Is you serious, yo? It’s eight-thirty on a Wednesday morning,” Quinn said. “How many jobs do you know out there that allow you to start after a ‘couple more hours’ of sleep? You think this is a game?”Nikko and Soddy were already on their feet. “Shut the fuck up and let’s go, nigga,” Nikko said as he headed for the door.Quinn stared after him for a few seconds before shaking his head and following behind Soddy. “Always a challenge with this cat,” he said to himself. “But it still went better than I thought.”It was almost a two hour walk to the downtown area of Holton Terrace. Along the way, the three boys talked and danced, exchanging moves and ideas. Quinn finally got a preview of Soddy’s skills, who proved to be as good a dancer as Quinn and Nikko. The rest, shower and crackers had obviously worked wonders for him overnight because he seemed to be stronger and more energized than the night before.Their journey was only interrupted once, by the scene of a woman and child being evicted by the city’s sheriff department. The three boys walked past, silently watching the woman with the baby in her arms as she cried and begged, but the men continued to work as if she were not there. It took a few moments for the boys to forget about the poor woman and child and their sad ordeal.But by the time they finally made it downtown, they were back in high spirits and infectious energy. Along the river that the city had built to wind and curve throughout the downtown area, the boys found an entrance to the subway station and took the escalator underground. Walking through the tunnels there had always been similar to attending an Apollo show. They were decorated along the walls with colorful paintings and mosaics of past heroic leaders, historical accounts and quotes from the extraordinaires of all time. People were everywhere in these tunnels - from the white collar executives to the beggars and bag ladies. Some people fought there in these tunnels, some made love. But most exciting of all were the performers in between. Here was one man sitting on the ground with his legs crossed and playing a set of drums by hand while a woman in bright, festive garments danced. Another fifteen yards or so into the tunnel another woman, large and filthy, stood with eyes closed, singing a beautiful song from the bottom of her greasy belly. The same distance further along the tunnel, a man dressed smartly in a black and white tuxedo played on his violin a song that seemed to fluidly make its audience feel happy and upbeat one moment but then seemed to change tune into a rhythm, painfully sweet and breathtaking the next.The boys walked through the tunnels as observers among the crowd - Soddy quiet and wide-eyed, Quinn and Nikko shouting out invitations for any and everybody interested in dance to come and see them. No one acknowledged them or even looked their way.But when they stopped at one young Caucasian man playing a fast-tempo, contagious beat on an electric guitar, they couldn’t help but to stop and dance along to the music. And when they did, every eye fell on them and every mouth fell open in awe and delight as a large crowd began to form around them.Chapter 7The boys were hot and sweaty, faces flushed and tingling by the time they were done dancing, by the time the electric guitar had ceased to cry out in loud, musical strains. The trains sped by in their own high-pitched, nonsensical screeches. People all around clapped, whistled, stared in amusement and awe.The guitar player pushed through a small crowd that had finally gained enough interest to approach Quinn, Nikko and Soddy. “Hey!” he called to them, loud enough to be heard above the buzz of the busy terminal. “You three really need to come with me where we can talk. Right now.” He turned around and began making his way back out of the crowd without another word.Quinn almost ignored him, but a small part of him was curious to know what the man had to tell them. Nikko and Soddy pretended not to hear the guitar player, but that small part of Quinn pulled him in the musician’s direction before he even had the chance to make a conscious decision to do so.He muttered a few thanks to a few people, gave out the address to a few others who suddenly seemed interested in dance lessons as he tried to follow the guitar player as quickly as he could. Finally, he stopped beside the man, the two of them standing alone by the stairs leading up and out of the subway to Government Gardens. “Yeah,” he said to the man, hoping to make the exchange quick so he could get back to the buzzing crowd that had gathered around Nikko and Soddy as if the two were offering miracles.“Dude, you guys are good,” the man said, putting his guitar and speaker box on the ground. He extended a hand, and Quinn caught a faint whiff of musk coming from him. “What’s your name?”“Underrated Works,” Quinn said, sizing the man up with his eyes as he accepted the man’s handshake.“I’m Ian,” the man answered right away. Ian appeared to be the blonde biker type, rough around the edges. “Nice to meet you.”“Yeah, you too,” Quinn responded, wondering to himself what Ian wanted. Perhaps it was just simply admiration that made him pull Quinn to the side. “Thanks for playing for us back there. That was pretty cool. You got skills, too.”Ian nodded and Quinn turned around to walk away, the compliment returned. “If you’re looking for someplace to perform where they pay you a couple bucks per night, you should come down to the Ricochet Nightclub. They’d love you,” Ian said, lighting a cigarette with a slight smile.Quinn turned back around to face Ian, attracted by the words ‘couple bucks.’ “Ricochet?” he asked. “Where’s that?”Ian took a long pull from his cigarette and tilted his head back to blow the smoke into the air, squinting through it as he did. “Get your crew, and I can show you,” he said, nodding his head in the direction of the stairs.Quinn looked at Ian out the corner of his eyes, thinking about how angry he would be if Ian turned out to be full of shit. Ian stared back at him unblinkingly.Finally, Quinn began walking back toward the crowd, calling his partners’ names as loudly as he could, although they still could not hear him over the buzz of the crowd and the trains. As he pushed his way back to the center of the crowd to grab his friends, people pulled on him, talked to him, tried to get his attention. He spoke very few words back to the people, mainly repeating the name Underrated Works and his address. When he finally made his way through the crowd, Soddy was still standing there, grinning, wide-eyed and silly. Nikko was being extremely receptive and seemed to be loaded with information, although his eyes seemed only to focus on the young ladies in the crowd.Quinn grabbed Nikko’s arm and began pulling him out of the crowd and over to Ian. Nikko yanked his arm roughly, but Quinn held on. “Man, Quinn, let go of me!” he yelled.“Trust me, and bring your ass, Nikko,” Quinn yelled back. Nikko grabbed Soddy’s arm, and the three wrestled their way out of the center of all the people. The crowd seemed to follow them, screaming and asking for autographs. As Quinn led his friends over to Ian, who was still standing by the stairs, Ian threw his half-smoked cigarette onto the train tracks, grabbed up his instruments and began quickly making his way up and out of the subway tunnels.“Getting real acquainted with the females back there, I see,” Quinn whispered to Nikko as they ascended the stairs.“What can I say? I was advertising, like you told me to,” Nikko whispered back, and Quinn couldn’t help but smile and shake his head.At the top of the stairs, back in broad daylight, Ian began filling them in on the story about the Ricochet Nightclub. According to him, the place had been around for nearly two centuries but was a well-kept secret as a getaway for the wealthy and criminal. It was not far from Government Gardens, which was a huge garden in the center of Holton Terrace’s most important and historical legislative buildings and courthouses. Government Gardens served as the direct center of Holton Terrace, boasting a 13-foot-tall white marble statue of the city’s first mayor surrounded by walkways of red brick lined with colorful flowers everywhere. The garden’s visitors, as they walked through, would sporadically find benches, ponds, fountains or a government establishment standing proudly alone in the midst of the visual paradise. The subway entrance/exit was located right on the very edge of Government Gardens in order to discourage the state’s riff-raff that might ride in on the trains below from entering any further than necessary. Because the state’s riff-raff generally tried to avoid having anything to do with buildings, people and everything else connected with the law, they hardly ever argued or contested the point.On the other side of the tall, intricately-designed iron gates along the edge of Government Gardens, however, was a totally different world. Rules and morals were extinct here, and crime and desperation thrived supreme in the hearts of the people. Even the police officers and business owners in the downtown area were not to be trusted. Holton Terrace was not intended to be a haven for sin but yet had still somehow become victim to a great passion for it.The Ricochet Nightclub, which was no different from its surroundings, was located only a few blocks from the subway entrance at Government Gardens. It was located in an alley, in a maze. One would have to drive into the alley off of the street, turn into a long, black tunnel located in the middle of the alley and give a secret password to a guard found there before being allowed to drive into a garage of sorts. Once in this large, dark garage, another door would open and then one would have to drive forward, make another left along the alley and finally enter the parking structure of the Ricochet, which was built to look like a ridiculously huge abandoned warehouse.Inside of the Ricochet’s walls was the devil’s playground. Originally, it had been built as a monastery in the nineteenth century. When the mother of one of the monks who lived there passed away from a bout of cholera, her son went insane and went from room to room in the middle of the night to kill his brethren. He claimed that the devil had come to him in the building and told him if he could take enough lives to compensate his mother’s worth, he would return her life and her soul to her body. Nineteen people were viciously murdered that night, but the monk’s mother remained deceased. Ironically, the building continued to live. It was reopened as an orphanage toward the end of the century. Francis Abilene Sims, a hopeless romantic with clouds for brains, was in charge of the estate. She fell in love with a young vagabond sailor that had once been an orphan there, and after being convinced of his undying love with soft, sweet kisses and whispers from his deep, rumbling voice in the dark, she laid down to bed with him. She became pregnant and told her younger lover, who in turn told her not to fear, that he would marry her and whisk her off with him to distant lands far across the seas. He disappeared overnight, and poor Francis spent the duration of her pregnancy waiting for him to return until finally giving birth to a stillborn baby. So much heartache did not sit well with the woman, and she decided to secretly put arsenic into the food. She and all twenty-seven of the children entrusted to her care ate their way to the other side.The Mafia, brushing aside the building’s disturbing history, leaped at the opportunity to purchase the building because of its inconspicuousness. The building seemed to approve of this exchange for a while, and the Mafia did well there for fifty years, holding holiday parties, making plans for executions, harboring gangsters in need of a good place to hide in peace. Suddenly, a fierce storm blew through Holton Terrace one fateful night, and the roof caved in. Thirty-four people were either killed or seriously injured in that incident alone, and the building sat empty for nearly two decades before the current owner had the place renovated and reopened as the Ricochet Nightclub. He declared that although the building had seen its fair share of bad luck and ill decisions, it seemed to “ricochet” back to prosperity each and every time.By the time Ian had finished telling Quinn, Nikko and Soddy all the sordid details of the Ricochet Nightclub’s location, all four were standing at the mouth of the alley that served as the maze-like entrance to the establishment. “Coming?” Ian asked impatiently, noticing the boys’ hesitation to follow further. The three of them looked at each other and simultaneously agreed that they would not. Shrugging, Ian began walking into the huge, gaping black hole of the alley’s tunnel. “The password is the adoption lady’s first name, if you change your mind,” Ian called over his shoulder. He spread his arms wide, his instruments hanging from the ends like huge weights. “There’s cash spillin’ out the walls in here!”Chapter 8Because of the probability that the Ricochet was a cursed location, Quinn, Nikko and Soddy decided that they would much rather stick to trying to teach dance versus to inquire about performing there. As Quinn said, “The building obviously attracts bad luck.”The three boys continued to walk the streets, announcing the birth of Underrated Works, showing off at businesses and other public areas.“Hey,” Nikko said to one elderly woman standing on one corner, waiting to cross. “You know how to do this?” He jerked his shoulders from right to left a few times.The lady gave it a try, although her tiny little shoulders hardly moved.“Okay, okay, okay,” Nikko nodded in false approval as Quinn and Soddy stood behind the lady, stifling their laughter. “What about this?” He did a move that was a little more complex but did not consist of too much energy for her to keep up.The old woman looked at Nikko for a moment before pushing her nose into the air and continuing across the street.“I can teach you, Grandma!” Nikko called after her. Quinn and Soddy, by now, couldn’t hold their laughter in anymore. “Underrated Works, 127th and Bremen!”Soddy suddenly stopped laughing. “Wait a minute,” he said. “That was our Grandma?” Nikko looked at him but did not bother to answer.Outside of Roxanne’s Fast Food Restaurant, the boys actually succeeded in getting a small group of strangers involved in a quick dance lesson. It wasn’t really a lesson because they did not teach any new moves, but the boys still felt it was a success because they were able to get a handful of people to work together in making a few simple moves look good. When the boys stepped up the ante and tried to make the moves just slightly more complicated, however, the strangers began tapering off from them.A group of teenagers hanging out outside of a clothing store cheered the boys on when they stopped to perform a quick routine for them. They were more than happy to repeat the name and address of the boys’ school but were not so quick to say whether or not they would be willing to “sign up.”The boys walked on and, after a few more futile stops, Nikko stopped to talk to a well-dressed pimp standing outside of a liquor store. “Hey, uncle, you know how to dance?” he asked the pimp.“I ain’t got time for them games,” the pimp answered. “Who’s gonna watch my dames?”The three boys almost hurt themselves laughing.A pretty young woman with a yellow lollipop walked by in daisy dukes, high-heeled stilettos and a brown fur coat. Her face had on more make-up than enough, and it was obvious that she worked for the pimp. Without warning, Nikko hopped behind her and began dancing. The prostitute stood there, looking confused for a moment before squatting down halfway to the ground and bouncing her bottom up and down, pulling the candy out of her mouth with a loud pop. The pimp joined in on the boys’ laughter, and the three of them began to run off, leaving the pimp behind.“Wait!” the young whore called. “That dance was worth twenty bucks!” Quinn looked back in time to see the pimp grab her by the arm, whisper a couple words to her and shove her back on her stroll.On their way home late one night, Quinn and his partners saw a group of men dressed in black pulling a couch out of a large alley window at the back of a house. They continued to walk on to the studio, glancing behind them every now and then to make sure the thieves were not following them with the intent of starting trouble.The boys continued their cheap marketing technique for the whole week. At the end of the week, Soddy was beginning to develop boils on the soles of his feet, and Quinn could feel a slight stiffening in his calf muscles.**************************************One particular night, Nanny Ruth came to visit Quinn in his dreams.He awoke in his bed back at Home, in the little cottage that Nanny Ruth had rented out in his younger years, when he was determined to be Nanny Ruth’s protector and she was determined to show him how to protect himself. Gray clouds tried hard to peek through the dirty windows as he laid there in bed and waited for the clouds of sleep to break apart.Quinn got out of his bed and felt the peeling wood beneath the soles of his feet. Slowly, he walked over the threshold and into the living room, where Nanny Ruth was sitting at the far side of the room, staring out of the window at the cement-colored skies.Instantly, he became a blubbering mess. Crying and trying hard to say her name through quivering lips and great whopping sighs, he ran to Nanny Ruth and pressed his face onto her bosom. Falling into her lap, he threw his arms around her neck.Frantically grabbing him as close as she could between her large, soft arms and making deep, rumbling moos of comfort in his ears, she kissed his face continuously.Finally, she pulled him off, shushing him with her fat, pink lips. With one finger, she motioned toward the gray horizon outside of the window, still holding him up with one arm. Shaking him in it, she directed his attention toward the impending storm outside.“Look, Quinn,” she said, dragging out the ‘n’ in his name as she usually did when calling him with urgency. “There’s trouble comin’. Be careful, boy!”The fear in her voice was enough to make Quinn stop crying and focus. Wide-eyed, he stared out, partially expecting to see a great reptilian beast or big bear-wolf looming tall above the land, crushing everything in its path as it approached the cottage.There was nothing there, nothing more sinister than the storm. But the fear he felt made him faint away in Nanny Ruth’s arms still.*********************************At eight o’clock one morning the following week, as Quinn was brushing his teeth with his batch of reliable baking soda and water, a knock resounded across the front door. Cursing silently to himself, Quinn stepped out of the bathroom, glancing over at Nikko’s and Soddy’s sleeping forms across the studio floor. Repressing the urge to do a forward flip onto the backs of their lazy, sleeping necks, Quinn reached to unlock and pull open the door.The old lady that Nikko had called “Grandma” was standing there, grasping her purse close to her chest and looking just as timid and afraid as a field mouse. “Is this Underrated Works?” she asked. As she spoke, the frightened look on her face melted into an expression of perverted approval as she gazed up and down Quinn’s shirtless torso.The quiet voice in his head whispered, “A customer…. Are you ready?” His own mouth, however, had a mind of its own. “Come back at nine o’clock, when we open,” he said as he softly closed the door in the old lady’s face. He could see the silhouette of her feet beneath the door as she slowly turned around to shuffle her way back down the stairs.Within the next hour, Quinn had Nikko and Soddy awake and ready to begin the day. The old lady’s knock came at the door promptly at nine, as directed.Nikko hastily pulled the door open. “I’m sorry, Grandma,” he said, gently pulling the elderly woman into the room by one elbow. “My rude friend here had absolutely no reason to turn you away earlier. Please come in.”Shaping her lips into a tiny “o” of approval, the woman gingerly stepped inside. “Why, thank you, young man,” she responded with a smile. “By the way, I meant to ask. How much are your services here?”“Our services?” Nikko asked and looked over at Quinn, who was searching for a piece of paper he could make a flyer on. The fact that “Grandma” here was the only one to actually show up to inquire about the dance lessons worried him, and he had been spending the morning trying to brainstorm new advertisement ideas.“Uh, thirty bucks a week,” Quinn muttered. “Thirty bucks?” the old lady exclaimed. “Social security doesn’t really pay much. Do you accept food stamps?”Chapter 9Three weeks into the boys’ on-the-street marketing venture, things were still looking shaky for the survival of the school. Rent was due in less than a week, and the boys had not even acquired half of what was promised. Although they hadn’t done poorly for a young dancing trio trying to raise money and attract business with little to no resources, most of what they had earned over the past few weeks had gone toward home and health and purchasing a cheap tape player/radio, which left them with close to but not quite thirty dollars. Even the old lady’s food stamps could only supply so much food for the three of them, and with the return of Soddy’s health came the wrath of his appetite. Nikko, who complained somewhat frequently, was also obviously influencing Soddy’s opinion about the whole gig, and lately Soddy had been nodding and grunting his approval at Nikko’s admonitions.In the end, Quinn decided that the best thing for the group to do is reconsider Ian’s suggestion to look into performing at the Ricochet. Nikko was full of reasons why they shouldn’t - the number one reason being that the club sounded like the mother of the Titty Twister, the club from the move ‘From Dusk till Dawn’ - but Soddy seemed pretty excited, just as long as they could still teach their three new customers. For some unexplainable reason, Soddy had developed an unquestionable dedication to the old lady, a nerdy twelve-year-old boy with huge glasses and red hair but whose loaded parents reliably paid him a nice-sized allowance he could pay for classes out of, and an overweight, balding man who always claimed to be too tired to talk about anything but either eating food or how his doctor insisted he get some exercise. Watching Soddy wring his hands with glee, Quinn took as much pleasure as he could in telling Nikko that he had been outnumbered and overruled.Inside, on the other hand, Quinn hoped and prayed that he was making the right survival choices and worried about Nanny Ruth’s message, echoing and vibrant within him.********************************Standing outside of the entrance to the Ricochet Nightclub, the three boys gazed into the long, black tunnel that served as the entrance. For a moment, no one spoke.“Well,” Quinn finally said. “This is it, y’all. Our key to making it big. What we waiting for?”“I don’t know what we supposed to be waitin’ for,” Nikko answered. “But I sho do wish we was waitin’ for it at the crib.”Quinn shot him a dirty look.“The Lord is my light and my salvation. Whom shall I fear?” Soddy whispered. “Psalm 27:1.”The boys walked into the darkness and stopped at a large, dirty black window. Not knowing what to do next, they stood there silently.“Can we help you?” a voice suddenly asked over an intercom, making the boys jump.“Uh… Francis,” Quinn stammered. For a moment, no one answered. Then, from the far corner of the hollow entryway where they were standing, a door clicked open, and a black man stepped out dressed in a black tuxedo, looking like a large swollen bubble of oil. He stood there, looking at the boys, and the boys stood and looked back at him.“What are you waiting on?” the big man boomed in a big voice, in so many words repeating the same question the boys had asked themselves only moments before. Nervously, they approached the doorway where he was standing. He took a step to the side so they could walk through. “This is where you come in when you ain’t got no car,” the man boomed, and the boys heard a couple of chuckles coming from somewhere in the darkness.The big black man stepped in behind them and closed the door. The darkness here, where the boys were standing, was now so complete that they could not even see a hand wave before their eyes if one were to do so. Everything was silent and still. Without warning, the three boys were suddenly being searched, patted down in the dark. Soddy whimpered, Quinn’s whole body stiffened up, and Nikko obviously tried to fight because Quinn could hear them tussle with him for a few seconds before he let out a cry of pain.“Easy, little lamb,” one of the men said, his voice full of venom. Everything fell silent again for a few seconds longer. A huge rumbling chorus suddenly vibrated the whole building - or what they thought was a building - until a large door opened on the other side of the structure. Dazed by the sudden burst of sunlight, Soddy started to walk forward but stopped when Nikko grabbed his shoulder. A couple of cars drove past, leaving behind a trail of dust. The men who had patted them down were nowhere in sight.Slowly, the boys walked out of the garage-like structure and followed the direction of the cars. Turning left at the high wall flanking the end of the alley, they finally saw the Ricochet Nightclub, dark and towering above them. Each level was marked by lights and handrails, and an underground parking facility was built in beneath. The door to the parking facility was located in the bottom right-hand corner of the building.On each porch was something to see. Men dressed in expensive, lavish suits held drinks in their hands, some talking to each other, some smoking cigars, some even dancing. All of them were accompanied by a woman of their choice, although each woman wore the same bunny outfit. The boys did not know it yet, but the Ricochet Nightclub not only hired its own security, wait staff and performers but also its own departments of prostitution and illegal substances, and the prostitutes under their care dressed appropriately according to the theme of the night. Some nights the prostitutes would have to dress in nursing uniforms, some nights in Egyptian robes, some nights in Oriental kimonos and accessories. Tonight was Bunny Night.Goggling wide-eyed at prostitutes dancing, rubbing, holding onto men everywhere, the boys walked through clouds of drug and tobacco smoke until they reached the bar. Lights flashed all around, and the bass of the music rumbled through their chests and reverberated in their ears. The dance floor appeared to be made out of smoked green glass, illuminated from below. Cages were scattered sporadically throughout the club with several different exotic animals, including snakes, fish and naked strippers, male and female. One large tank in the middle of the room was filled with artificial flames that reached high, almost to the ceiling. Over the loudspeakers, the dee-jay smoothly mixed in a bridge from the song “Creep” by TLC to “She Blinded Me with Science” by Thomas Dolby.The boys stopped at the bar counter, staring around them, wide-eyed. One of the bartenders - a blonde young woman with too much make-up and holes in her shirt to allow her breasts to hang out - stopped on the other side of them, rinsing out some glasses at a small sink. “What can I get for you guys?” she asked, glancing over her eyebrows at them.Quinn cleared his throat, trying hard not to stare at her erect nipples. “Um… is the owner available?”The bartender smiled lazily. “Who’s asking?” she asked, twitching her neck at him a little. Her breasts seemed to shake even more at the sight of Quinn’s sweaty brow.“We’re uh… we’re, uh… looking for a gig. There was this one guy, you see, he, uh… he told us you all were looking for a few more dancers.”The bartender’s eyes quickly scanned over Quinn’s face and body, then Soddy’s, then over Nikko’s once, twice, three times slowly. She obviously highly approved of Nikko but was still determined to make Quinn sweat out a few more beads. “Some guy, huh?” she asked, biting the corner of her bottom lip as her gaze locked on the area below Nikko’s belt.Quinn shifted from one foot to the other. “Yeah. Ian, I think?” he said, shooting Nikko an exasperated glance as Nikko slowly lifted one leg over the barstool to sit, watching the bartender watch him.But the bartender’s eyes were now focused directly on Quinn. “Ian? He sent you here?” Quinn nodded and, after giving him another once-over, this time with obvious curiosity in her eyes, the bartender shrugged. “Wait here,” she said, popping the top off three bottles of beer and sliding them toward the boys. “Be back in a minute.” She walked off, Nikko staring after her.“You think you broke now,” Quinn whispered over to him. “You just keep googling at that broad.”“Man, please,” Nikko said. “Gimme ten minutes and I’ll have that bitch payin’ me.”Quinn rolled his eyes.Soddy, still staring at all the nudity and seduction around him, grabbed the bottle off the bar and took a sip. Immediately spitting it out, he put a hand to his mouth and looked in horror at the bottle. Quinn snatched the bottle from him as he began to cough. Setting the bottle on the bar, he gave Soddy a couple of rough pats on the back, shaking his head.Quinn was silently wondering one more time how and why he got stuck with his two partners when there suddenly came a warm, velvety smooth voice from behind them.“Gentlemen?”The three boys turned around to see a tall, handsome, light-skinned man dressed in a silk purple pin-striped suit that made him look like a modern Count Dracula with its big collars and shiny shoes. A young woman with a fake ponytail and a mouthful of bubble gum stood beside him, rubbing his back. “I am the owner here. My name is Javell McCoy,” he said.Quinn stood up and extended his hand for a proper handshake. “My name is Quentin Jackson, Mr. McCoy, and these two are DeSardi and Dominique Villareaux.” He motioned to each as he spoke. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”“Likewise,” Mr. McCoy said, confusion hidden beneath his cool eyes. “What can I do for you?”“Well, we were referred here by someone named Ian. He said you were looking for a few more dancers.”A smile began to spread across Mr. McCoy’s face as he began to look the boys over. “You are young,” he said, finally, in a pleasant voice. “Go home.” He turned to walk away. The young woman at his side blew a kiss at them as she followed him into the crowd.Chapter 10“Man, did you see all the females crawling around that place?” Nikko exclaimed as the boys settled down at the studio over bowls of corned beef hash. “Yeah,” Quinn said, picking through his food. Although this was the first actual meal the boys had had in a couple of days, Quinn did not have much of an appetite. He had spoken very little since Mr. McCoy’s rejection.“Quinn!” Nikko called out. His fork clinked into his bowl as he lifted his hands in the air as if reaching out. “Ass! Titties! Everywhere! Man, G, I just wanted to wrap my arms around ‘em all-” He closed his eyes and passionately folded his arms over his chest, “-and cuddle my face in ‘em.” Cupping his hands around his face, Nikko made kisses at nothing and whispered baby talk into the air. A couple specks of food flew back into Soddy’s bowl as he erupted into new giggles.Quinn grunted, wondering what the three of them were going to do about rent.“Look, son,” Nikko paused to pop a forkful of food into his mouth. Between chews, he said, “Yo, I think we should gone ahead and work there. It might be haunted, but if all them bitches can work there and not have a problem wit’ it, then how come we cain’t? You see all them people in there, all that security? Man, ain’t shit about to pop off in there, supernatural or not.”“Mr. McCoy already said we can’t work there,” Quinn said quietly.Nikko shrugged. “So we’ll change his mind.” When Quinn didn’t respond, Nikko continued. “Why he gon’ keep us out if we got the password and we done already been in once before? It ain’t like we a threat.”“He already made up his mind. We too young. How we gon’ change that?”“Man, Quinn, quit bein’ so na?ve, yo. Look at all that crime crawling around that place. You think he really care about what age we is? That nigga lookin’ to make money! If we really need this gig, we gotta show that cat he need us, too!”Quinn looked at Nikko for the first time.“So how do we convince him to let us perform?” Quinn asked, now interested.Nikko appeared to think about this for a moment. Searching through his pockets, he finally held up an orange and black card to Quinn’s eye level with a pop. “We don’t.”On the card, Quinn could see that Nikko had written down a name and number before they had left. “Jazmine Turner / 372-5987,” the card read. “Ricochet bartender.”********************************After dinner, the boys walked to the phone booth five blocks from the house. Nikko slipped a coin in and dialed. Huddling in their hoodies, Quinn and Soddy waited.“Yeah, is Jazmine there?” Nikko asked after a short pause. “A’ight.” He turned around and made reassuring signs at his partners. “Yeah, Jazzy? What’s good, girl?! Hey, I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor, ma. How about you let me and Quinn and Soddy come through for a beer, just on G.P.?” He waited. “Yeah… yeah?” He turned and smiled. “Cool, baby. We’ll see you in about a hour.” He hung up and, grinning broadly, threw an arm around both of his boys. “Let’s hit up the Ricochet,” he said.Quinn wasn’t so sure of himself, and his bottom lip hung all the way to the nightclub.Once inside (this time with no resistance from and therefore no pain inflicted on Nikko), the boys made a beeline for the bar. Passing by one of the prostitutes for the night sitting on a patron’s lap (tonight was obviously French maid night), Nikko couldn’t help discreetly pinching her bottom. The prostitute turned around, anger in her eyes until they locked on Nikko’s. She smiled.The boys took their seats at the bar where Jazmine was mixing cocktails.“Hey, Jazzy,” Quinn said sadly, and she shot him a quick smile, her breasts bouncing.“Jazzy, how them titties hangin’?” Nikko said loudly.Jazmine began pouring the cocktails into glasses. “Hangin’ just fine, Nikko, it’s my pussy fallin’ apart at the seams,” she said. She grabbed up the drinks with both hands. “Be with you guys in a minute.” She walked off.Nikko looked over at Quinn, who was tracing something in the bar top with his finger. “Quinn, what’s wrong, man? Jazzy’s titties was sayin’ hi to you and you ain’t even look at ‘em. Perk up, son!”Quinn sighed.Soon, Jazzy came back to the boys and slid napkins in front of them. “Soddy, cat got your tongue?” she asked. Soddy looked up at her, mouth and eyes wide open. Jazmine bent over to take beers out of the refrigerator and pop the tops off before setting them in front of the boys. Looking up, Jazmine smiled. “Hi.”Soddy’s gaze went to Jazmine’s breasts, dangling like monkeys from a tree. He bent his head, blushing beet red.Nikko huddled close to the bar. “Look, Jazzy, I gotta talk to you, sexy girl.”Jazmine leaned impatiently upon the counter. She waved a hand at the beers she had given the boys and went back to her stance. “You got your beers, and I got a lot more people in here to get fucked up,” she said. “What do you want, Nikko?”Nikko hesitated, but not for long. “Hook us up with a way to dance.” He tapped the bar top for emphasis. “Here.”Jazmine appeared to think about it for a moment.“Hey, Jazz, what’s the deal?” one of the other bartenders called out.Jazmine looked over at him. “Yeah, I’m coming,” she called back. She looked back at Nikko. “Look, there’s this one performer, comes in on Thursday nights.” She took a pad from under the bar and began jotting down a name and number. She slid it to him with a sly smile. “Why don’t you give her-” Jazmine threw her hair over her shoulder with a toss of her head, “Why don’t you give her a call?” Beaming, she took a couple steps backward away from them. “Tell her I sent you.”She turned around to help the next customer.“Fine ass,” Nikko muttered, staring after her.The boys made it back to their neighborhood late that night. On the way, Nikko stopped at the phone booth once again, this time to call the performer. Getting the answering machine, he left a message with the address to the studio.********************************That night, while the boys slept, a knock came at the door - softly, but loud enough to awake them. Just three slow taps. Quinn lifted his head from his pillow (the only one he owned) to see the shadow of someone standing at the door through the crack in the threshold once again.Quinn got up to open the door, rubbing sleep from his eyes with his other hand. Standing there was a tall woman holding a cigarette - very dark and beautiful in the dim light of the hall behind her. She stood there, looking almost royal as she looked Quinn solidly in his face. Dressed in a long, tight red dress and black and gray mink jacket, Quinn could tell the woman was unusual, although he couldn’t yet say why. Long, black, shiny hair trailed down her back, and a purse was clutched tightly in her left hand. Her left arm was crossed over her chest, pronouncing her large, round breasts. Silver earrings glittered from her ears, dangling like warm icicles.“You gon’ let me in?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow on the last word.“Uh… yeah, come on,” Quinn offered, stepping aside and cutting on the lights in the studio.“Thank you, sir. I got you guys’ message tonight,” she said, lightly walking into the room as she flicked cigarette ash onto the hall floor. “About a proposition. Jazmine referred you?” She suddenly stopped and looked around. “What is that horrible smell?”Nikko abruptly sat up off the floor and voiced what Quinn was still struggling to realize. “That’s a motherfuckin’ man!”The woman looked at him coolly. “And you smell like shit. Which one is worse?”Quinn hurried to intercede. “Jazmine from the Ricochet referred us, yeah.”Nikko’s head quickly whipped over to look at Quinn. He took a couple of whiffs under his arm. “This bitch said I stank,” he said quietly, looking Quinn square in the eye. His head snapped back toward the woman, who was gazing thoughtfully at the floor.She tapped more cigarette ashes on the ground as she stood on. “Well, I do get my drinks from Jazmine for free on Thursday nights. I guess I do owe her the favor of at least one performance.” Rumbling through her purse, she pulled out a tape and piece of paper. “This is the song I’m dancing to tomorrow night. If you’re coming, come ready to ad lib to my beat, baby.” The woman turned on her heels and glanced down at Nikko. “Because I don’t do trash.” She sniffed and headed toward the door.Quinn read the slip of paper he had been given. “Tariq ‘Diabolique’ Ahmad Abdul / 997-4513,” it said. “Song: ‘There’s Some Hoes in This House’ by Frank Ski.”Tariq, the woman, walked out of the room, leaving behind a trail of Clive Christian’s Imperial Majesty perfume lingering in the air and the front door open.Nikko shouted out “What you need to do is some heavy prayin’!” before jumping up and slamming the door shut. “If that was an actual woman, I’d still fuck her,” he said with a mischievous grin. The lights switched off.Chapter 11In the darkness that surrounded the nightclub, a hushed whisper sizzled like the flames of the fire lamps that hung along the walls. A warm blue light highlighted the stage. Slowly, the place became more and more still.A burst of smoke suddenly began hissing from all around the stage so that the crowd could make out nothing on the stage. Seconds later, music began booming out of the crunch speakers hidden in the shadows of the club. Seconds after this, white track lights along the stage floor flashed to the beat.“There’s some hoes in this house / there’s some hoes in this house,” the song chanted.A cage descended from the catwalks above the stage, just a shadow in the lack of light available. Silhouetted inside the cage with the dim blue light in the background was a woman’s curved, graceful figure.As the cage touched the floor of the stage, the bass of the song began to beat continuously and, with a flash, the stage spotlights cut on. Tariq Diabolique stepped out of the cage onto a set designed to look like a French boudoir. As she danced, Soddy, Nikko and Quinn took turns coming out to her on the stage and dancing provocatively with her to the heavy beats. The scenes, in which Diabolique uncovered a new piece of garment every time the beat changed, portrayed Diabolique as a “hoe.”The boys performed so outstandingly well that the crowd erupted into cheers. As controversial as it was, the people went even crazier when Diabolique finally removed the last article of clothing - her underwear - to reveal the penis beneath.Above the crowd, from a discreet office in a corner of the VIP section, Mr. McCoy watched.************************************After the performance, the four boys - Quinn, Nikko, Soddy and Tariq - sat at the bar with Ian, sipping on beers and joking with Jazmine in between her rounds. By now, the other performers had been on and off stage, and the stage was now just another part of the dance floor.“You motherfuckers dance like you was born at a house party,” Tariq said, blowing cigarette smoke out of his nostrils.“You ain’t short-stopping on skills ya self,” Quinn said. Now that they had actually performed at the Ricochet and Tariq had promised to pay them more than enough for Quinn to cover the rest of the rent the next day, he was feeling much better, and his spirits were high again. Tariq gave him a sideways smile in response to his compliment.“Say, Diabolique, that shit-faced chump was here again, watching from the back rows, as usual,” Ian said, downing a shot of bourbon in one gulp. He slammed the shot glass on the table, his lips wet. “D’you see him?”Tariq tapped his ashes into the ashtray, gazing at his own empty glass. “Nope.”Ian noticed the other three boys’ confusion painted on their faces. “Some guy comes in every Thursday to watch Ms. Thing here perform. Some guy with a long, ugly scar starts right here-” Ian put a finger on his forehead, close to the scalp, “and comes down to here.” He trailed the finger in a curve over his left eye and to his left jaw. “I think he must be a friend of Mr. McCoy’s or something.” He took a pull from his cigarette and blew it into the air before continuing. “Don’t never say nothin’, just comes in to watch and then leaves. Fuckin’ weird.”“He just knows a woman when he see one, ain’t nothin’ weird about it,” Tariq said, sitting up straighter. “Besides, I think he’s kinda hot.”“I know a woman when I see one, too,” Nikko spoke up. “And YOU, sir….” He stopped and threw his hands up as if in surrender as Tariq threw him an evil glance. “I’m just saying.”“You don’t know no damn woman, boy, you can’t even spell ‘woman’,” Tariq sneered at him. “Hell, you don’t even know nothin’ about the ‘man’ half. How you gonna figure out the rest of it?”“I know enough about a man to know you one,” Nikko said into his glass.“For your information, loser,” Tariq said, “I might be a man off stage, but when you see me up there beneath them lights doing my thang, every eye in this joint sees a woman.” Tariq adjusted his breasts and let his hand slip slowly down the side of his curved figure.“You tell ‘em, bitch,” Jazmine said, overhearing the comment as she grabbed another beer out of the refrigerator behind the bar. She quickly popped the top off the bottle and walked off.“Lady D,” a voice spoke from behind the boys, and they turned around to face the prostitute that had spoken. “Mr. McCoy wants to see you upstairs.”Tariq smashed the cigarette out in the ashtray and stood. Grabbing his purse, he laid one hand tenderly on Quinn’s shoulder. “Hold my seat, baby.” He walked off, his hips swaying from side to side.Nikko watched for a few seconds before looking at Quinn. “Fuck that,” he said. “They see a man wit’ titties.” Ian shook his head, chuckling.Standing himself, Ian stamped out his own cigarette and grabbed his coat to put it on. “Well, boys, I gotta get out of here. I’m glad to see the three of you actually took my advice and looked into this place. I’ll see you here Saturday night, if I know Mr. McCoy the way I know I do.” Patting Soddy on the shoulder a couple of times, he walked off. The three boys sat talking until Tariq came back to the bar.Quinn turned around to see who was settling in the stool next to him and had to quickly reach up to grab a large wad of bills rolled up with a rubber band. Startled, Quinn almost dropped the money and had to do a small juggling act with it before he was finally able to actually grab it. “Man, don’t do that!” he exclaimed. “I’m already kind of tipsy.”“Mr. McCoy loved you three lucky, talented bastards,” Tariq said. “He wants you with me every week now.”Nikko, Quinn and Soddy erupted into cheers and laugher, giving each other fives and pumping their fists into the air. Tariq motioned toward Jazmine for refills on their drinks, looking as pleased as a cat full of sardines. The boys congratulated each other and thanked Tariq and Jazmine as the drinks were poured. “You boys keep dancing like you did tonight and stick with me,” Tariq advised. He lifted his glass in a toast. “I’mma turn your little fine asses into living, breathing stars.”“Yes, sir,” Nikko responded. Soddy almost choked again trying to drink and laugh at the same time.Once the drinks were finished and the four boys were feeling slightly intoxicated, they headed out of the nightclub and into the streets. In the dim light of the night, Tariq looked so much like a vixen that quite a few cars honked and men whistled and called out to him from their cars.“Maaan, why you gotta switch like that everywhere you go? Can’t you just walk normal?” Nikko demanded.“You obviously don’t know how hard it is to pimp-walk in high heels,” Tariq countered. “Tell you what. You just worry about yourself and let me handle the rest.”Nikko shook his head in shame.“So, where you headed to now, Diabolique?” Quinn asked as he noticed that the four of them were headed in the same direction.“Same place you going. Home.”“On foot?”Tariq looked at Quinn. “I live downtown, sweetie, couple blocks up here, on Kiss Avenue. Me and my three roommates.”“Three roommates?”“Yep. In a two-bedroom apartment.”“Damn. How’s that working out for you?”“To be honest, it’s not. Every time I turn around somebody’s movin’ out and someone new is moving in. Y’see, the apartment is in my name, and I pretty much rent out to people so I can keep up with the rent. It’s expensive living downtown in this city. Especially with my lifestyle.”“Well, then, if you gotta rent to strangers just to stay on top of your rent, how you gon’ make us into stars?” Nikko asked, to Quinn’s horror.But Tariq could obviously hold his own. “I got you in at the Ricochet and paid, didn’t I?” he shot back. “You know, Nikko, you got a big mouth. You should really think before you use it.”“He do got a point, dawg,” Quinn said, shooting Nikko a look of warning.Nikko was silent for a moment. “I just asked,” he mumbled. Suddenly, he perked up and threw an arm around Tariq’s neck. “You still cool.”Gently, Tariq removed Nikko’s arm from around his neck. “And you still stank,” he said. “You gonna mess my hair up manhandling me like that.”“Aw, nigga, you ain’t performing no more tonight. Loosen up,” Nikko responded, throwing his arm back around Tariq’s neck. “I think I just came up with the perfect name for you.”“It better be either Tariq or Diabolique,” Tariq said, not bothering to remove his arm again.“Nope. It’s T.” He looked at Quinn and Soddy. “T, short for Tariq. What y’all think?”“T,” Quinn repeated, and Soddy smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I like that. Give him a little hood flava.”“Exactly.” Nikko softly squeezed his arm around Tariq’s neck a few times. “You might wear dresses and makeup and have titties and all that nasty shit, but man, you got a heart of gold, T. Appreciate you for looking out, G.”“And you can dance your ass off, to,” Quinn threw in.“Thanks,” Tariq said. “But the titties is fake.”Tariq, Soddy and Quinn burst into laughter as Nikko began to make upchucking sounds.Chapter 12The next morning the boys were awakened by a knock at the door (Quinn complained to himself that this was becoming a habit.) They had decided to sleep in a little later than usual, thanks to the celebratory drinks they had all guzzled the night before. Tariq was standing there when Quinn opened the door, dressed in male clothing for a change. He was a handsome, reddish-brown complexioned young man with clear, smooth skin and deer like eyes. Fleetingly, Quinn noticed how different Tariq looked in his male form but how effortlessly he also brought Diabolique to life. The next (and most important, in Quinn’s opinion) thing he noticed was the bags in Tariq’s hands. One hand held a bag of Kentucky Fried Chicken. The other held a bag with a bottle of Pink Moscato and a bottle of Carlo Rossi wines. As the drinks were poured, Tariq pulled a blunt out from one pocket. Quinn complained that after last night, he didn’t think he would want another drink for a while, but after a few puffs of marijuana and some slight peer pressure, he didn’t feel so ill and wound up accepting a glass of wine, anyway, along with a hefty piece of chicken.“So, T, what part of Holton Terrace did you come from, G?” Nikko asked, his chest full of smoke.“The White Eagle Bay district,” Tariq answered. He quickly licked a couple of his fingers, hunched over his plate. “Thirty-eighth and Wolffe.”The three other boys nodded in approval.The White Eagle Bay district was considered more of a collection of middle-income neighborhoods. The lawns were well-manicured, the streets were clean, the houses (although similar to the other houses on every other block in the area) were all perfect. Every once in a while, something strange would happen such as a terrible car accident or a half-decomposed body would pop up, but the small district was quiet for the most part.“Must’ve been nice,” Quinn said.“Yeah, it was, but when my foster parents caught me playing in make-up one day, they put me out.” Tariq looked at Nikko. “Nigga, pass the damn blunt!”Nikko wrinkled his forehead at Tariq as he passed the blunt to Soddy. “Foster parents?”“Yeah, I was in the foster system for a little while, up until when. Then I had to take care of myself, had to do some things - steal, dance, rob sometimes, hell, even had to sell some ass every now and again in order to make it. But, damn it, here I stand.” He reached toward Nikko. “Let me see that bottle next to you, baby.”Nikko leaned over to grab the bottle off of the floor. “That’s some shit, yo.” He handed the bottle to Tariq. “Me and Soddy just lost our parents, too. Not that long ago.”Tariq was silent for a moment while he poured himself a glass. The silence hung in the center of the room like a thick fog, red as the heartbreak it represented. “I never even knew mine, baby. Parent, to me, just mean somebody to take care of you. Until they feel like it, at least. And by then you betta had learned somethin’ about how to take care of yourself cause if you ain’t, you gonna be floatin’ up shit’s creek, baby. But them over in the White Eagle Bay district was the last parents I knew.” He took the blunt from Soddy.“I never knew my mom and dad, either,” Quinn blurted out. “I don’t know what they looked like, I don’t know where they was born, I don’t know how old they was. All I know is my Nanny Ruth. She told me my mama name was Ledesa, and she had been a servant maid with Nanny Ruth for a little while in Kentucky before the mansion where they lived and worked burned down and Nanny Ruth moved here to Holton Terrace with me.”“So Nanny Ruth was your grandma?” Tariq asked. Nikko and Soddy stared at Quinn speechlessly. This was the first time Quinn had spoken about his past, and they had never bothered to try prying it out of him.Quinn shook his head. “Naw, her and Ledesa didn’t have the same blood, so I guess me and Nanny Ruth don’t, either. But our souls is still tied. My Nanny Ruth done passed away two years ago, not long after I graduated from high school. She ain’t have much, so I don’t know what they did with her body. But as far as my nanny’s soul….” He tapped his chest. “…I’m keepin’ it right here. She all the family I done ever had.”Tariq placed a hand on Quinn’s shoulder and squeezed it once, gently. “Well, now you just got yourself a little more family now, don’t you?”Quinn looked up at Tariq and saw him smiling brightly at him. Seeing the inebriated smile made him smile back instantly, and he nodded as Nikko put an arm around him, and Soddy threw an arm around Tariq. “Yeah,” Quinn answered. “Yeah, I guess I do.” Tariq chuckled, his teeth gleaming white. He passed the blunt to Quinn.“You saw the void left when you went away, / So you thought enough to fill it with love, / Now I know with each break of every day, / You’ll still be watching peacefully from above,” Soddy quoted. “It’s a piece of a poem I wrote.”“Wit’ your soft ass,” Nikko murmured.“Nigga, get that piece of chicken from out yo’ teeth,” Tariq said. “What is it wit’ you and yo’ personal hygiene?” Tariq looked at Soddy. “Sweetheart, that was beautiful. How long you been writin’?”“Ever since I was about nine,” Soddy answered, tucking his head into his neck and lifting a hand to hide his blushing smile.Tariq reached up to remove Soddy’s hand from his mouth. “Why you hide your smile, baby?” Tariq asked. “You think smilin’ is ugly?”Soddy shrugged. “Kinda. I mean, it’s a habit.”“Wait a minute, back track.” Tariq shook his head and waved a hand in front of his face. “Did you just say smilin’ is ‘kinda’ ugly?”Soddy tried to explain. “Well, I mean, mine is. I got a gap and people have told me my lips get crooked when I smile.”“And you should tell ‘em to kiss the gap in yo’ crooked ass,” Tariq said. “Trust me - the most beautiful thing you can do is smile. It’s what everybody does when they want to look good. Why do you think angels do it so much?” Tariq picked through a piece of chicken. “I know when I was little I used to spend hours just imagining what my parents musta looked like. And in each vision I had, they was always smiling.”“Every time I imagine my mama, she was always dancing,” Quinn said. “I don’t even know if she could dance. But I think one of my parents passed it on to me. That’s part of why I love it so much.”Tariq pursed his lips and nodded. “Yeah, dancing is beautiful, too,” he said sincerely. “But not everybody can do that. Everyone can smile. I think we got it from God. That’s why it’s so beautiful, and it feels so good. And it’ll never go away.”The room grew quiet as the four boys meditated on this for a while. “Well, every time I think about Mama and Daddy they was beatin’ our ass,” Nikko offered.Quinn, Soddy and Tariq burst into laughter. “Naw, seriously,” Nikko continued. “They used to beat us like money was supposed to pop out.”“Not all the time, and it was never that bad,” Soddy said between laughs.“It was often enough and bad enough for me,” Nikko disagreed. “See, yo’ little young ass was always the goody-two-shoes, so they babied you.”“But my little young ass was always gettin’ into trouble for covering for you,” Soddy reminded him. “Yeah, yeah,” Nikko said, smiling. “I remember one time I brought a female home from school and took her to the basement to be mannish wit’ me. Mama and Daddy had been home but had left a note that they had to run out to the hospital and they would be back. I guess Dad was having some really bad back problems that day and needed Mama to drive him. Anyway, they wound up coming back home before me and ole girl got done and started looking around for me. They knew something was wrong ‘cause they saw my book bag on the floor in the living room. Searching the rooms, they heard some noises coming from the basement and made a beeline straight toward the basement door. Lil’ bro here thought he could stop ‘em by faking a seizure,” Nikko laughed. “And we still got punished.”As Nikko described how their dad had spanked them until he was too out of breath, then took a short break before continuing to spank, Quinn looked around at Tariq, Nikko and Soddy laughing together and sharing more memories about their parents and homes; some of the memories were ones they had never shared with another living person before. He knew that something inside was beginning to allow him to trust and accept these characters - someone other than Nanny Ruth - for the first time in his life.Chapter 13Within a few weeks, Quinn, Nikko, Soddy and Tariq grew closer and closer. They performed together every Thursday and sometimes on other days with Ian or some other artist. They were together almost every day, all day. Jazmine was there at the Ricochet to keep the drinks flowing, and business was looking very good financially for once, Quinn noted. Some friends of Tariq’s had even recommended some other clubs that might be looking for extra dancers, although Tariq swore up and down that their suggestions were just ploys to get the four of them out of the way so they couldn’t be so much of a competitive threat. Quinn wasn’t so sure, but he could see that Nikko’s growing popularity with the females that worked at the Ricochet was causing some discomfort with some of the other macho, masculine skirt-chasers that frequented the establishment. This made Quinn slightly nervous, but Nikko appeared to take all the icy glares as a joke.Tariq had invited the three other boys to his home once for a change. The apartment seemed to be filled with lots of other boys that dressed up and/or performed, many of them running around with wigs, heels and hair. Quinn, Nikko and Soddy never went back.The weather in Holton Terrace was slightly warmer for this time of the year. The boys decided that it was the perfect weekend to head to the park and take advantage of this Indian summer. Packing a couple of book bags with food, marijuana and music, they headed out.Many other people obviously had the same idea, and the park was full. Families were barbecuing, guys were playing sports and showing off their car’s booming bass systems, girls were switching around trying to be cute and get as much attention as possible. Older people were gathered at the park benches with bottles of liquor, cans of beer and small radios meant for just these types of events.The boys played ball on the court all day, sometimes dancing when they scored a difficult point. Nikko got a few more numbers from some of the girls lingering around the court, of course, and somehow even got into a small verbal altercation with one of the guys that filled in for Tariq (Tariq, although insistent for a chance to play every now and then, couldn’t really play well enough for anybody to want him on their team. As a result, Quinn and Nikko spent their whole day playing with different groups of people while Soddy and Tariq spent half the day on the court and the other half off the court, dancing.)By the time the sun had disappeared again and the temperature had taken its nosedive and most of the people had packed up their belongings and gone home, Quinn and Nikko were exhausted and trudged back to the studio for the rest of the night. Soddy and Tariq, still full of laughter and energy, headed straight for the Ricochet.************************************“Kiss of fire, Sweet desire, / Never leave my side. / Never tire, Take me higher. / My love, my joy, my pride. / You give the sun its light to shine, / The moon its lovely face. / Please now give your heart to mine. / Let time never erase.”Many times throughout the course of the day, Tariq had asked Soddy to recite some of his poems. It seemed that no matter how many Tariq heard, he wanted to hear more. Now, they sat at a table not too far away from the bar with tall glasses of one of Jazmine’s concoctions, surrounded by lots of other ladies listening to Soddy’s poems with glossy eyes and sighs quivering along their lips.“You believe in love at first sight, baby?” Tariq whispered, his chin cupped dreamily in one hand. Before Soddy had a chance to answer, something on the far side of the club seemed to catch Tariq’s eye, and he patted Soddy’s hand as he stood up from the table. “Hold on right there for a second, Soddy. I’ve gotta run to the bathroom.”“That’s okay, Lady D,” one of the young girls purred, slipping an arm around Soddy’s neck. “We’ll take real good care of your friend here.”“Real good care,” echoed another in a soft, high-pitched tone. She slid closer to Soddy. “He’s too cute to let anything chase him away.”A third young lady leaned across the table and stirred her finger through Soddy’s drink. Seductively staring into his eyes and licking the juice from her fingertip, she asked, “What else can you do that makes me feel this way?”Soddy suddenly felt the sensation of breasts compressing against his back and the breezy breaths of a fourth woman as she said in his ear, “I was made for a passion like yours.”Soddy was still in the middle of a deep gasp that had started the moment he realized the jiggling inflation he felt on his back was the feeling of breasts when, in a flash, he found one of the women’s mouths locked on his. He was overtaken by a playful tongue. Hands were now cupping his balls and making trails up and down his chest, stomach and thighs. His penis began to grow erect, but the blood also began rushing in and out of his face. He struggled to breathe, struggled to keep from fainting, struggled to try to stay relaxed and not give away the fact that he was still a virgin. And yet the shadows of the club seemed to grow into blankets of darkness swallowing him slowly like a wave. Just as the pressure and the desperation was becoming too much for poor Soddy and he was a split second from wrapping himself around as many of the females as he could and attempting to suck the life out of them, Tariq came back to the table. Pulling the ladies off of him one by one, he said, “Bitches, you know better. This one’s with me, so don’t make me get to igniting y’ little skinny asses aflame, now. Just run along, run along - I’m sure Mr. McCoy can point y’all in the direction of some more dick.” He uttered the last part of his spiel as though he were losing breath. He resumed his seat. “Not that you bitches need any extra help.”Soddy instantly sat up straighter in his chair, looking around, mentally trying to figure out which lady he had just been lip-locked with. “Hey, what you doin’? What you do that for?”Tariq slammed a hand onto the tabletop. “Look, do you have seventy-five dollars to give away?”“No.”“Well, that’s the least it’s gonna cost you just to get a private dance from one of those skank hoes. If security would’ve caught you in one of the back or upstairs rooms with one of them and no money, they would’ve made living room furniture out of you, and they know it.” Tariq flashed a bitter glance at the closest female, a light-skinned redhead with large breasts, cheeks and thighs, slithering away like a beautiful snake. “So let they ole dirty asses kick motherfuckin’ rocks. You can do a hell of a lot betta than market pussy, anyway.” He stared at the redheaded whore until she eventually smacked her lips and marched away, mumbling on the way.Tariq looked back at Soddy, his hands flat on the table and his back straight. “Your drink getting watery, baby. Don’t be scared, it’s just a lil’ alcohol. You need some help?” He reached out for the drink, but Soddy swept it up toward his own mouth, shaking his head.“No, I don’t need your help, T,” Soddy smiled and threw the rest of the drink into his mouth. Grimacing, he put the back of one hand up to his lips.Tariq stood up, grabbed the empty glass and placed it back onto the table. “Good,” he said, grabbing Soddy’s elbow. “Now we can go back to the bar and get refills.”Ignoring Soddy’s excuses and suggestions that they maybe grab a kitty cocktail instead or even a wine cooler, Tariq led him through the crowd and to the bar. The two sat and had four (or five) more drinks, talking, joking and laughing in between each. After the second (or third) drink, Tariq whispered in Soddy’s direction, “Hey. Wanna know a secret?”Soddy studied Tariq’s wobbling head and burst into laughter. “You are drunk as hell,” he yelled in between guffaws. Tariq smacked his lips, turned away and waved Soddy off. Soddy grabbed his shoulder. “No, wait, wait. I do want to hear it. Come on.”Tariq leaned over until he and Soddy were shoulder-to-shoulder. “I had to go to the bathroom ‘cause I think I saw my guy with the scar. I talked him into some more weed and a ride home later.” Tariq clicked his glass against Soddy’s, and the two began to drink up, all smiles.Chapter 14It was half past five o’clock in the morning when Tariq and Soddy finally stumbled up the stairs to the third-floor studio. Still giggling, whispering and falling all over each other, Soddy fumbled with his set of keys until he got the door unlocked.“So where da fuck was you at?” Nikko asked as soon as the two boys were inside the room. No longer laughing, they looked down at him sitting with his back against the wall in his usual spot. Unlike Quinn, who was curled up with a blanket in the middle of the floor, it was obvious that Nikko had been awake all night. Next to him on the floor was the telephone the boys had purchased a few days earlier.Nikko’s eyes, full of anger, flashed at Tariq. “So he was wit’ you? All night? No phone call, no nothin’? Is that how y’all do now?”Tariq looked at Soddy. “Who is he talkin’ to, baby?” He began to laugh. “Your brother trippin’-”Nikko was on his feet. “Naw, fuck that, yo, YOU trippin’!” He jabbed one finger into his chest. “That’s MY motherfuckin’ brother!” He jabbed the finger in Tariq’s direction. “You just better be glad ain’t shit happen to him, on my life! I would’ve been comin’ for YOU!”Quinn sat up, frowning, trying to decipher whether or not he was dreaming. “What’s wrong?”“This crazy motherfucker trying to act like his brother is still a baby or some shit,” Tariq said, one hand on his hip.At the same time, Nikko was saying, “This bitch done had my brother out till just now, Quinn. What type of shit is that?!” Hearing Tariq’s comment over his own, he turned back toward him. “What you mean, ‘a baby?’ If he was a baby, I wouldn’ta expected him to pick up the phone and call!”Quinn stood up, holding his hands up for peace. “Wait a minute, y’all. Can we just calm down for a minute?”Tariq folded his arms across his chest. “Then if he ain’t yo’ baby that must mean he a grown ass man that shouldn’t have to call nobody,” he said softly but icily.“That’s bullshit,” Nikko spat. “You gon’ have his back if he need you? You gon’ look out for him? Or is you just trying to party all motherfuckin’ night and get fucked up the ass?”“Nikko, man, chill,” Quinn said, putting one hand on the boy’s chest.“You see he standing here in one piece,” Tariq said. “But I don’t know about baby brother’s booty hole, though. Maybe you should take a look at it. The way you actin’, you prolly been wanting to do that for a while, anyway.”Quinn had to grab Nikko just as Nikko tried to take a lunge for Tariq. “Yo’ bitch ass,” Nikko swore, fighting against Quinn to get to Tariq.Quinn picked Nikko up and slammed his back against the wall, away from Tariq, who had already moved halfway to the door, just in case. “Be easy, bro, be easy,” Quinn kept whispering. Nikko stood there, breathing heavily, his Creole blood reddened in his face. Unblinkingly, his eyes were locked on Tariq.“You ain’t never goin’ out with that bitch again, Soddy,” Nikko said, his voice quivering with anger. “You hear me?”For a few seconds, no one spoke. Then, barely audible, Soddy said, “I had a lot of fun, Nikko.”Nikko’s eyes snapped toward his brother. Again, no one said anything. Suddenly, he yanked his arms out of Quinn’s grasp and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. The walls vibrated with violent power.Tariq shook his head. “I’mma pray for that nigga,” he said, heading toward the door. “I can’t deal wit’ that controllin’ shit. Betta y’all than me.” He closed the door behind him.Quinn stared at the door, then looked at the bathroom door, then looked at Soddy, then looked down at the warm, fluffy covers he had left lying in a pile on the floor. Grudgingly admitting to himself that sleep time was officially over for a little while, he looked back at Soddy.Soddy was now standing at the bathroom door, silent, as though listening or, more likely, feeling. Reaching a hand up to the door, his fingers gently touched it. Quinn remained silent, as well, witnessing the depth of the bond between the two brothers.“T took real good care of me, Nikko,” Soddy said, almost whispering.Nikko did not answer from the other side of the door.“It’s been a long time since I’ve had fun,” Soddy continued. “A long time since either one of us had any friends.”Still no response.Without a sound, Soddy laid his forehead on the door. “Hey, I know it’s dangerous out there. And I know I haven’t really… got out much. I know it’s scary, feedin’ me a little line.” Soddy paused. When he spoke again, his voice was full of emotion. “But, man, bro, I’m ready! I’m ready to live! I almost lost my life out on them streets, but I still want my chance to have fun and do all the things I ain’t never done before!” Again, he paused. “Even stayin’ out all night without anyone to answer to, just once. I promise I’mma stay in contact from now on.”Everything was still and silent for a few moments until Soddy began thinking about giving up and going to sleep. From the other side of the door, Nikko’s voice was calm but gruff. “You smell like straight alcohol and weed.”Sounding hopeful, Soddy explained, “T got us a ride home wit’ some guy wit’ a shitload of weed. I was so high and drunk I hardly even remember the ride, but I know it was in a limousine.” Soddy chuckled a little in amazement, then went silent again.A few moments passed, but then the door was pulled open and Nikko came out. With both arms, he hugged Soddy. “I love you, bro.”Soddy returned the hug with both arms. “Love you, too.”The hug was not long, but Quinn still saw the love between the two.Suddenly, the front door flew open again, and Tariq stepped in. “Whew,” he said, looking at Nikko. “I thought I was gon’ have to whoop yo’ ass.”Nikko crossed his arms, glaring at Tariq through squinted eyes. “So what y’all do?” he asked Soddy.“That’s it. Just went drinking and then rode around in some limo with tinted windows all the way around. And so much drugs! I mean, there was pills and the white shit and all that, but man, there was a lot of weed, too!”“Well, I don’t want you ridin’ around in that car no more,” Nikko said.“Yeah, me, neither,” Quinn said. “The boys woulda locked y’all up till y’all change color.”“I mean, that’s cool. I didn’t know the guy we was ridin’ wit’, anyway. Never even got to see his face. I ain’t got no reason to ride around wit’ him no more.”“Why you get in the vehicle wit’ somebody you don’t know, anyway? How you ain’t even see his face?”“’Cause each section of the limo was cut off by tinted glass, but I was drunk! I needed the ride home!” Soddy explained.“Exactly, and the gentleman who was, after all, kind enough to give it to us may have sold drugs but was not rude or harmful toward us,” Tariq interceded. “He just wanted a little alone time wit’ the lady.”“Yeah, well, never again, I don’t care who tells you it’s a’ight. That shit is too risky,” Nikko said.“Agreed, bro, agreed,” Soddy said.There was a short pause before Tariq flicked an unlit blunt in front of Nikko’s eyes. “But I, on the other hand,” he said, “am going out on another date with him Sunday night so I can get some more of this miraculous shit. Light this up, baby.” Tariq handed Nikko the blunt and a lighter shaped like a thunderbolt. “Ian’s gonna be there performing. Some exclusive beach house party I wish you boys could go to. I guess it’s supposed to be private, by invitation only.”“Well, have fun,” Soddy said. “I gotta meet with my class Sunday afternoon, and I don’t know how long it’s gon’ take.”“Damn, this shit is good!” Nikko said, looking at the blunt with wonder. “But I still don’t feel like goin’ to some lame ass secret party.”“Especially with a lot of people I don’t even know,” Quinn agreed. “Don’t sound like my idea of fun.”“Well, I’mma go and try to get so fucked up it’s gonna take a week for me to sober up again,” Tariq said.Laughing, the four friends sat on the ground in a circle to finish smoking, as if the morning’s altercation had never even taken place.Chapter 15Tariq stepped out the foyer of his downtown apartment building and stopped to glare down at the three young men sitting there at the top of the stairs and along the granite handrails.One of the men grabbed between his legs, almost slipping off the handrail. Another whistled; the third young man just stared, his mouth hanging open.“Hey, ma,” said the young man who had reacted first, “Hey, ma, what’s yo’ name?” Tariq kept walking toward the waiting limousine parked by the curb without so much as a glance in any of the men’s directions. The limousine driver, a short, solemn-faced Asian, opened the door for him. Tariq smoothed his dress along his buttocks before sliding into the back seat and heard the men on the steps suck in the air rapidly between their teeth and let out a few profanities.The door closed shut once Tariq was settled comfortably, and he turned to greet his date with the lift of one eyebrow and a soft, sexy “Hello.”Antonio Allen had never been an attractive or well-liked man, but what he lacked in looks and character he made up for in flair and charisma. “You look beautiful,” he complimented in a smoky whisper.Tariq appeared to blush. “Thank you.”Antonio paused to pour a glass of champagne for Tariq from the mini refrigerator built in under the seats facing them on the other side of the limo’s cubicle where the two sat alone. The dim, soft brown lights twinkled around them like dusted stars. The romantic tune of a piano played gently in the background, the smooth voice of a male singer floating through the air in tender sways.Smiling and picking up his own half-empty glass from its holder on the door, Antonio sat up and turned slightly in his seat so he could see Tariq better. “To talent, beauty and excitement,” he proposed to toast. His smile half-disappeared. “To you.”Accepting the toast with a light ting against Antonio’s glass, Tariq responded, “Smooth talk like that can be dangerous,” before they both took sips from their glasses.In a flash, the smile returned, Antonio’s incredibly straight, white teeth dominating his face. Sitting back in his seat once more, Antonio said, “It is an exquisite pleasure to finally be able to enjoy your company alone.”Tossing his hair out of his face, Tariq responded, “You had me alone in the back seat of your ride just like this the other night, Antonio.”The man’s scar seemed to glisten in the dim glow of the track lights, his eyes like that of a black onyx fox. “Not quite. You had your… friend with you.” The word ‘friend’ was spoken with enough acid to make Tariq blink.“Not that kind of friend,” Tariq said, feeling awkward suddenly.“Oh?” Antonio was still, relaxed comfortably against the plush black leather seats.Tariq didn’t like the direction the conversation was going. “Them boys is my dance partners. They was friends of Jazmine’s, the bitch behind the bar, and I get my drinks from her for free. So it wasn’t like I really had a choice but to let them dance wit’ me as a favor to her. It just turned out to be a plus that they can actually dance and they cool ass people that I happen to like a lot. So it ain’t gon’ be no jealousy shit wit’ that goin’ on here, is it?”Antonio said quietly, “No.”“Good, ‘cause if it is, you can just let me know right now. I don’t have time to-”Antonio was chuckling, a low rumble from the depths of his chest, as he reached over to grab Tariq’s hand and tenderly place a kiss on its knuckles. “Diabolique… my sweet lady… I didn’t mean to anger you. I am very happy that you are not romantically involved with them. They do not… pardon me, CAN not… see your… TRUE worth, your… magnificent potential.”He kissed the inside of Tariq’s wrist, then the bend of his arm, then his exposed shoulder. By the time he reached Tariq’s ear, Tariq’s bottom lip was quivering with intentions to respond that were never fulfilled. Antonio took the lip between his and grabbed Tariq’s hips, sliding the two of them closer together. His hand slid down Tariq’s leg, grabbed the back of his knee and pulled his leg on top of his lap. The other hand slid up the back of Tariq’s neck and into his scalp. Gripping a handful of his hair, Antonio pulled Tariq’s head back and kissed his throat.Tariq grunted as he came back to his senses and pulled back. “Wait a minute,” he said, touching one temple in an effort to gather his thoughts. “I don’t do this. I don’t….” He looked around the limousine cubicle and the champagne-filled glasses. “I don’t get down like that, Mr. Allen. You have to do more than romance me. I am a lady. You have to give me time.” He slid further to the other side of the car, away from Antonio.The look in Antonio’s eyes was like bottled thunder. An instant later, the bright, glistening smile had returned as Antonio slid back in his seat. “Of course.” From one drawer beneath the seats, he removed a blunt from several that had been pre-rolled and placed there. Holding it toward Tariq, he said, “To your virtuosity.”Fifteen minutes later, once the blunt had been smoked and the glasses were empty, Tariq and Antonio pulled up to the beach house property. There were plenty of people present, and quite a few were loud and full of energy. There was lots of dancing, drinking, smoking or sniffing of drugs, talking, laughing and picture-taking. The ballroom of the beach house was huge, and Ian and his band silhouetted by a large picture window with a view of Lake Bing-Bing, right off the coast of Holton Terrace. The lights of the Holton Terrace bridge that connected the city to Johnson Island, where the old and retired were known to seek refuge from the mean, unpredictable streets of the city, twinkled like fairy dust.Tariq looked around at the extravagance of the place. “Whose home did you say this was?” he asked, impressed. In his hand was another glass of champagne that had been given to him by one of the maitre d’s at the front door.“A friend of mine,” Antonio responded mysteriously. From an inside pocket on his blazer, he removed a small tin container and opened it. Inside were tiny, white pills that looked almost like powdered mints. He popped one into his mouth, closing his eyes for a moment as though savoring the sensation.While his eyes were closed, Tariq did a complete 360 degree turn, his eyes following an extremely handsome man walking past. “Must be a rich ass friend,” Tariq said, facing Antonio again. “What are those?”Antonio’s eyes were still closed. “Just a little something to help me relax. A painkiller. Like Percocets, if you will.”Tariq quickly plucked one of the pills from the container and popped it into his mouth. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said, smiling slightly. Antonio finally opened his eyes and smiled back. Tariq took a sip of his drink.The effects were instantaneous.“To talent, beauty and excitement,” Antonio repeated, wrapping his arms around Tariq’s waist and pulling him close once more. “To you.” Again, Antonio kissed Tariq on his mouth, slipping the half-dissolved pill between Tariq’s lips with his tongue. Round and round from one circle to the next, Antonio twirled Tariq in an obscure dance of intoxicated, inebriated unreality.Tariq eventually stumbled to a stop. “Baby….” Tariq paused as the effects of all the spinning on top of the drugs and alcohol began to rush in on him all at once. His hands groped at Antonio’s shoulders in search of support. Antonio stood solidly, gripping Tariq’s elbow tightly. “Antonio. Baby, I think I need some water or somethin’.” He held up his empty glass for Antonio to take away.Suddenly, there was a tap on Tariq’s shoulder, and he turned around to see who did it. Ian stood there with his instruments on the ground beside him, and Tariq realized for the first time that Ian’s time on stage was over and new performers had taken the stage beneath the picture window.“How’s it goin’?” Ian asked. “I just came to say hello.”Fighting off the wave of nausea, Tariq let out a loud screech and fell into a sloppy hug around Ian’s neck. “You did such a great job up there, Ian! That was hot!” Keeping one arm around Ian’s neck, Tariq turned to extend an arm toward Antonio. “This is my date Antonio. Antonio, this is Ian. You know. From the Ricochet.”Antonio extended a hand to shake. “A pleasure.”Ian sized Antonio up, not bothering to accept the handshake. Tariq was shorter than Ian, and Ian had to look back down at Tariq in order to connect eye-to-eye with him. Softly but loud enough for Tariq to hear, he said, “I just came to say hi before I head on out, Lady, but you take care of yourself. If the vibe around here changes, don’t hesitate to leave and go back home. Promise?”Tariq seemed to be struck by Ian’s warning just for a moment then laughed brightly. “I won’t get too much more fucked up, Ian, I promise. I’m a big girl, baby. I’ll be okay.”Ian wrapped an arm around Tariq’s shoulders and gave them a quick squeeze before nodding and saying, “You’re right. Just take care, though, okay?” With his eyes locked on Antonio’s and Antonio’s locked on his, he roughly placed a kiss on the top of Tariq’s head, grabbed his instruments up once more and walked off. Tariq stared after him, a look of slight confusion on his painted face.Antonio grabbed the glass out of Tariq’s hand. “Let’s refill this glass for you, beautiful. I shall return momentarily.” He was gone in the midst of the crowd, which appeared suddenly to Tariq like a sea of smeared colors as another wave of dizziness hit him out of the clear blue. Reaching out a hand for stronger equilibrium, Tariq squinted around the room in search of a seat, trying to see between all of the people. The room seemed to be three times as packed as it had been ten minutes ago.Within the next instant, there was a handsome, young, dark man in a tuxedo beside Tariq. The stench of his cologne was mildly overpowering. “Would you like to dance?” Tariq tried to respond, but found himself too weak as the young man swooped him up in his arms in another crazed dance.Tariq felt hands groping his buttocks, his sides and chest, between his legs, his thighs. First there seemed to be only one pair of hands, then there appeared to be more and more. Round and round the room went. Tariq felt short of breath, felt hot, felt as though he was close to either vomiting, passing out or both. Everything was dark and growing darker still the more he was spun around.And then he was thrown backward against soft, smothering cushions, the hands now viciously ripping clothes and jewelry off of him. The idea that he was now in some sort of bedroom began to come to him but then drifted away again into nothing. Through his drunken high, he heard a male voice seethe, “It’s a motherfucking man.” Tariq instantly wanted to fight back, to get out of this room, this house, but he did not know if he even had the strength to get up. When he tried, he was struck in the face so hard he was sure it had caved in.The next thing he knew, he was being hit everywhere, all over his body. In the beginning, his body refused to obey his wishes to react in any other way than to close his eyes and turn his head from one side to the next, screaming and trying to block the blows with his hands. Once desperation set in, however, and Tariq realized what these men intended to do to him, he began fighting back more ferociously, although it did no more good.Through the one eye Tariq could still see through ten minutes into the beating, he saw Antonio watching composedly from in front of the closed bedroom door.Five minutes later, they had beaten Tariq to death.Chapter 16“So, Jazzy, what’s up with me and you?” Nikko asked. He, Quinn and Soddy were sitting at the bar at Ricochet Nightclub, glasses full of frosty alcoholic beverages before them. Jazmine was at a sink below the bar, washing and rinsing out glasses.Jazmine looked over the top of her brow at him, her eyes dim with slight disgust. One corner of her mouth lifted slightly into a sneer. “Absolutely nothing, slop face. Let the girls around here tell it, you’re one Doctor Feelgood with way too many patients for me.”Nikko poured an ice cube into his mouth and crunched down on it, confusion wrinkling across his brow. “What you mean? Every time I come here, who do I come to see first? You know you always been my number one, baby!”Jazmine slapped a wet rag onto the bar top and began wiping, picking up drinks as she went along. “Of course you come to see me first. I’m the only bartender that’d serve you drinks. Your reputation precedes you, asshole. From what I hear, you’re a regular toilet seat backstage. Always ready to get sat on.” Quinn and Soddy erupted into laughter, Nikko’s face growing dark with the slight. “Besides, everybody knows I’ve always had the hots for Ian.”The three boys looked at Jazmine with wonder. “Ian?!” they all said at the same time.“Yeah,” she said, beginning to wash the empty glasses she had picked up as she was wiping the bar top. “That rugged, rock star type just...” Jazmine looked toward the heavens with a small shrug of her shoulders, “does something to me.”Quinn set his glass on the bar top as he realized for the first time, “So that’s why you hooked us up with T. You wanted to impress Ian.”Again, Jazmine shrugged. “You guys said that he had sent you here, and when Mr. McCoy politely showed your asses the door, I thought about how disappointed Ian would’ve been and decided to step in and keep that from happening.” Jazmine tossed her hair over one shoulder with a hard toss of her head. “I knew Ian wouldn’t have sent you here if you guys weren’t good at what you do. Which you are. So it all worked out, anyway.” She zipped off to help a customer signaling her from further down the bar.The boys stared after her. “She want me so bad she don’t know what to do wit’ herself,” Nikko said. Quinn looked at him out of the corner of his eye and pursed his lips in disbelief. Soddy just shook his head and smiled.A moment later, the three of them heard someone settling into the empty stool next to Nikko and looked over at the source. Ian was there, placing his instrument cases on the ground and taking the seat. His fuzzy blond facial hair was now stubby, his eyes puffy and bloodshot red. Although he had taken a place next to the boys, he didn’t bother speaking until he was sure Jazmine had seen his summons with one weary hand.“Hey, guys,” he said in a raspy voice.“Damn, Ian,” Quinn responded. “You look like you aged ten years overnight. You a’ight?”Uncomfortably, Ian turned his head in the opposite direction of the boys for a few moments, long enough to make them all look at each other with concern.Jazmine was there in an instant, brushing Ian’s wet, straw like hair out of his grayish blue eyes, now concerned herself. “Ian, you look like something’s wrong, baby. What is it?” In a flash, she turned around, grabbed a snifter and a tall bottle of Kentucky whiskey and began pouring them in front of him.Ian focused on Jazmine’s face for a moment then quickly looked down at the bar top. “I… I was so worried about her. Something kept telling me somethin’ wasn’t right, man.” Although no one knew who or what he was talking about, no one said anything. His head turned slightly toward the boys, but he wouldn’t look directly at them. “That fuckin’ guy with the scar, the one’s buddies wit’ Mr. McCoy, he… he showed up at that lame, snooty ass beach party last night wit’ Tariq on his arm.” He chuckled humorlessly, looking up at Jazmine with eyes that were suddenly moist in his pale face. “I mean, man, they were fucked up. She played it off pretty good, but….” Ian’s voice trailed off, and a look of confusion came over his face as he looked back down at the bar top. “Something just didn’t feel right about that guy, though, man. And I told her! I told her to be careful….” He stopped talking, closed his eyes and bowed his head toward the bar top, one hand around his drink, the other balled into a white-knuckled fist.Quinn’s voice was very, very low and quiet as he said, “What the fuck you sayin’, Ian?”Without opening his eyes, Ian responded in a strained voice, “Mr. McCoy called me this morning and told me to come by and pick up my pay for the week. When I got here, he told me the Ricochet is accepting donations to help pay for Diabolique’s funeral. Oh, God, man, somebody there beat her and raped her to death. Man, she’s gone!”“No, no, no, no, no, no, no….” Soddy kept repeating the word, then as the realization of the news began to sink in, his cries grew louder, more insistent. “NO, NO, NO, NO, NO….!”Nikko was quiet, his face like angry stone, his body quivering with tumultuous emotions.Quinn pulled his t-shirt over his face and wept as Soddy jumped up and ran off in the direction of the bathroom. Seconds later, Quinn dropped his t-shirt and grabbed Ian by his shoulder, craning his neck to look the man in the face, hoping to see humor there, hoping the news was supposed to be some kind of sick joke. Over and over, he asked the same questions, tears flying off his grimacing lips. “What happened, man? Man, why, man? Is you serious? WHY?!”Jazmine had her arms around Ian, tears on both of their cheeks.“Why, man?” Quinn sobbed. “Why?”Nikko stood up and walked toward the bathrooms to go after his little brother but stopped at the end of the bar and began punching the thick, powerful wooden column there over and over, long after his hand was busted open and bleeding.Soddy’s bitter screams at anyone he saw kept anyone from entering the bathroom for at least another half hour.************************************Quinn awoke onboard a train, the sunshine pouring in and pounding across his forehead. Briefly, he wondered how he got here, where he was going.He glanced out the window, turned away and looked out again, staring in wonder as he realized that the train was going backwards. The trees sped past at lightning speed toward the front of the train, toward the driver’s booth. The train rattled from side to side, shuddering on the tracks from the impact of the excessive speed, threatening to topple over on its side.Quinn leaned out into the aisle out of curiosity and saw Nanny Ruth behind him at the door that led to the next train car. She stood there, rocking with the train, her body refusing to budge from its spot regardless of the force of the train‘s momentum. Silently and slowly, she lifted one hand and beckoned for Quinn to follow. Although he was now sure that he was dreaming, he struggled to get to his feet, feeling the train’s vibrations in every nerve of his body.Once stable on his feet, Quinn crept down the aisle toward Nanny Ruth, gripping the tops of the seats for stability. As he passed each seat, he was surprised to find each occupied. The train was so quiet, outside of the noise of the grinding steel and machinery, that he had originally been under the impression that he was the only passenger in this particular car.Nanny Ruth led him from one car to the next, then to the next, then to the next, stopping to turn and beckon to him at each door. Each time Quinn would get close to her, she would suddenly turn and disappear through the connecting door. By the time Quinn would step through the door himself, Nanny Ruth would already be waiting at the opposite end of the aisle.Quinn also noticed that with each car he entered, the passengers seemed to age, seemed to be simply an older version of the passengers seated in the same seats and positions as the car he had just left.Finally, Nanny Ruth opened one of the doors onto the rear deck of the train with a huge swoosh of wind. Quinn could see another train some distance down the track, speeding toward them with whistle blowing and front light beaming. “Get ready, boy!” Nanny Ruth called out in a great, powerful voice. “GET READY!”Quinn jerked himself awake, breathing heavily, his body soaked with sweat.Chapter 17Death has the tendency to bring unprecedented changes in the emotional responses of the survivors left behind. Even more of a mystery is how these changes will be expressed in each individual. The adage, “You never know how much a person affects you until they have gone,” seems to hold as a generational truth. Sometimes these highly charged emotional responses are so intense that an individual’s whole life may be changed as a result, as quickly as a flash of lightning illuminated in the corner of an eye.Soddy seemed to reflect the biggest change in the boys after Tariq’s death. Although he refused to utter the deceased boy’s name and even took great lengths to leave the room whenever Tariq’s name was spoken, Quinn and Nikko didn’t have to hear Soddy talk about it to see how profound his pain was. His pent-up emotions came out as a sort of newfound aggressiveness, and there was now a subtle yet sharp edge within the lines of Soddy’s face, within the spice of his voice. Gone was the easygoing, timid Soddy of the past, always quick with a smile. A new Soddy was now living with the boys, one always in a hurry, always busy and somewhat withdrawn, always seeming to observe distrustfully from the corners of his angrily squinting eyes.Nikko seemed to make more references toward Tariq than usual. Every other sentence, every other joke, seemed to involve Tariq in some way or fashion. Quinn spoke very little words, even less than before, occupying himself by arranging more and more dance gigs at various clubs, parties and events, using the Ricochet as reference.Tariq’s death seemed to have widened the gap between the boys that had slowly but progressively been closing when the boy was alive.The night of Tariq’s funeral, in the darkness of night that seemed to paint the walls of the studio and everything in between, the boys sat by the big picture window sipping on wine coolers after a short but successful performance at Club Sparkle, a new hip-hop club that catered to the younger African-American crowd. Music played softly from a radio in a corner of the room, appearing not to care that it was being used more to fill the gaps of silence than for any entertainment purposes.“Man, if T was still around, we would probably have a blunt to go with these coolers,” Nikko commented, swishing the alcohol around in his bottle.“Yeah. It’s crazy that nobody seemed to care enough to call the police and find out what really happened that night,” Quinn said. “It’s like don’t nobody really care.” It was the most he had said about anything all day. He looked solemnly down at his own bottle and wondered to himself how such a small alcoholic content in combination with a long day could loosen up a stiff tongue.Nikko blew out an air of disgust. “The police wouldn’t give a fuck about a young black he-she with no real family or money for them to focus on. Besides, I got a theft record, anyway. I ain’t lookin’ for no police contact or nobody askin’ me questions like I know anything more than they do. I hate police.”Soddy suddenly stood up and set his half-empty bottle on the windowsill. Grabbing a jacket from the closet, he said, “I’m goin’ out for a walk.”“It’s kinda late, Soddy,” Nikko said. “I mean, I ain’t tryin’ to tell you what to do again, but it ain’t smart to walk around this neighborhood by yourself at this time of night. You ain’t gotta leave every time we talk about T, bro.”Soddy glared sideways at Nikko, his eyes even darker in the lack of light in the room. “I don’t wanna hear about T, Nikko. He was my friend, somebody that taught me a lot about the good in people. And the bad. Now he’s gone. End of story. But another thing I found out from hangin’ around him is that bad shit can happen to people regardless of where you are, what you doin’ or who you wit’.” Nobody said anything. Soddy began moving toward the door again. “I’m goin’ out.”He left. Minutes later, Nikko and Quinn were out the door, trailing Soddy to the empty viaduct beneath the train tracks a few blocks from the house. Walking up, they sat down next to a weeping Soddy and put their arms around him, both silently offering a shoulder for him to lean on.**************************************Networking and perseverance proved to work in Quinn’s favor, and trudging from one appointment to another on foot, by bus and by train had brought him into acquaintance with many different faces for many different reasons. Walking and talking in the name of business as if in a dream, Quinn seemed to be working like a man trying to run away from himself, allowing himself little time to feel.One morning while at the office of a marketing specialist in an attempt to hire marketing services, Quinn sat next to a young man in gaudy hood clothes and sunglasses. Outgoing like Nikko, the man introduced himself as Bullet and began telling Quinn about his pursuit to become a rapper. Bullet confided that he had been trying to seek marketing assistance for a demo tape he had made for two months, with no breakthroughs so far. Bullet’s guess was that too many marketing agencies catered to well-known artists who would pretty much market themselves, greedily leaving the more struggling artists in the cold. Quinn agreed.It didn’t take long for Bullet to feel comfortable enough with Quinn to tell him about his friend and partner named ReeseCup who used to split rental fees for studio time with him. According to Bullet, ReeseCup had been paying frequent visits to a prostitute that had just so happened to have a jealous husband that she never mentioned. One night a few weeks prior to meeting Quinn, Bullet had received news that ReeseCup had been witnessed being run down by a car as he was leaving the prostitute’s home, her wild-eyed husband behind the wheel.Quinn wasn’t the type of person to share his losses so easily, but when Bullet ironically notified him that he had planned an upcoming fundraiser concert against murder and violence, Quinn was quick to offer the support and performing services of Underrated Works. Bullet informed Quinn that he couldn’t promise to pay Underrated Works a lot of money because he was still upcoming himself and he didn’t know what the concert’s turnout would be, but Quinn assured him that the money was a small detail compared to the cause.Within the next couple of weeks until the day of the concert, Quinn got contracts with Bullet drawn up, signed and notarized. The three boys and Soddy’s small school of dancers practiced at the school basketball court where Quinn and Nikko had first met until they had a solid routine mapped out. Wearing t-shirts that were provided at the funeral by the Ricochet Nightclub with Tariq’s beaming face and the dates of his birth and death, the six performers were to come out on stage and mimic two gangs rivaling. One by one, the dancers would fall to the stage as great flashes of light and fire erupted along the edge of the stage, and the “injured” dancers would remain incapacitated until the end of the performance. At the end of the performance, Quinn was the only person left standing among a stage full of corpses. Looking around at the death left behind, Quinn ended the song crouched down in the middle of the stage, loneliness and despair reverberating from his posture and the expression etched on his face.Soddy had done phenomenal work training his school of three unlikely dancers, and Quinn and Nikko were now no longer skeptical that they could be taught. They no longer made fun of Soddy’s apprentices. Bullet and everyone else who attended the concert were more than impressed, including a popular radio talk show host by the name of Eva Braun who happened to get hired for advertising through the agency where Quinn and Bullet first met. Ironically, the agency had denied Quinn’s request for marketing assistance, but now that the show was over, they extended their own offers to Quinn. Quinn, however, was not sure that he wanted the marketing services of the agency anymore. He decided to wait and weigh his options, but accepted the request for the interview.“You guys have a lot of dynamite talent all wrapped up in one group,” Eva complimented in a live interview after the show. “Quinn, how’d you do it?”“Well, the funny thing is I never meant for it to start out this way,” Quinn responded, smiling over at Soddy. “I was actually trying to start a school, but my boy Soddy here wound up doing it first. All I do is pretty much try to get the name Underrated Works out there.” Soddy smiled back at Quinn.“That’s interesting. And what exactly does that name mean, may I ask?”“It means a representation of anybody who feels underrated and underappreciated for anything they do at any point in their lives,” Nikko interjected. “We dance, and for a long time, we’ve been feeling that dance has been forgotten about, especially here in Holton Terrace. So we’re here to bring it back, and I personally feel there are a few other things I do that you might need to know about. But we’ll get into that later.” His eyes twinkled at Eva.Eva laughed prettily. “A ladies man, I see,” she said. “So… a cool one, a sexy one, and a genius.” She looked at Quinn, and he could see the wheels spinning in her mind. “You know, I think you might be on to something here….”Chapter 18Soddy, Quinn and Nikko held up a copy of the Holton Terrace Gossip to the sunlight and rejoiced. The Gossip was a popular city magazine that one could find in practically any commercial establishment throughout the city. It was also one of many media agencies that had suddenly developed an interest in the boys. One of the main stories was an interview with all three of them, and their picture was showcased impressively on the front cover with the boys forever captured in a hot dance move at the anti-violence concert.The Gossip and almost every other reporter around the city had adopted Eva Braun’s label of “cool, sexy and smart.” Quinn was publicly viewed as cool, Nikko was considered sexy and Soddy was coined as smart for the way he had single-handedly developed a small school from scratch. The boys were now being approached from all directions by managers trying to convince them that the group needed their services, more media artists requesting business collaborations, people claiming to be family members and a growing number of fans with googly eyes and writing utensils galore.One organization promised the boys the opportunity to perform with the global icon and songstress Katherine Baker. The only stipulation was that the boys had to successfully pull off a performance with the not-so-popular Laila McClain, who had just been signed onto the same recording label. Laila McClain had started off playing a minor role in the children’s sitcom “Queen of the Waters” and now wanted to use this previous role as ammunition to pursue the music industry. Laila, although she possessed a sweet soprano voice, was much too stiff in her joints to make dancing with her easy or pleasurable. Yet the boys couldn’t and wouldn’t pass up Katherine Baker.The concert with Laila opened up with a stupendously huge glass tank in the background filled with dolphins, seals, whales and other aquatic life. In the center of the stage itself was a large oyster-like contraption that opened up to let Laila out, all dressed in feathers and diamonds and pearls. Half-naked dancers came from both sides of the stage and from the back of the oyster, filling up the stage with celebratory energy. It took much practice to get Laila to dance in sync with the back-up dancers from her perch inside the oyster’s mouth. Some of the steps had to be improvised around Laila’s imperfections, but finally the director got the whole group on the same page.The performance turned out to be a wild success, and the boys definitely got noticed in the midst of all the other dancers on the stage. No one was expecting such infectious energy, confidence and sex appeal from the three young brand new artists. But with the increased exposure came one of the biggest checks the boys had ever seen, courtesy of the recording label’s CEO. His signature, Frederick A. Rice, was sprawled sloppily in the bottom right-hand corner for authentic authorization, causing the ecstatic boys to hold another sunlit inspection.In their excitement, the boys decided to go to the Ricochet and show off their first official check from dancing versus being paid under the table. Once they got there, however, they were surprised to find a new girl behind the bar. This new bartender obviously refused to be as raunchy as Jazmine. Although she showed plenty of deep cleavage, her breasts were far from bare, and she glanced suspiciously at the boys more than once but took quite a while to actually saunter over to them and ask how she could help them.“Where Jazzy at?” Nikko demanded as soon as the new bartender was close enough to hear.“She hasn’t been here in three days. I run the bar here now,” she said, looking the three boys over with a sneer. “What is it that I can do for you?”“Can we get three beers?” Soddy asked politely.“I don’t serve minors. Sorry.” The lady began to walk away.“Is Ian around?” Quinn asked before she could go too far.“He hasn’t been around in three days, either. Who are you, anyway?”“We used to dance here not that long ago. You should ask about us,” Nikko countered.The lady rolled her eyes slightly. “Well, Jazmine and Ian haven’t been here, and I don’t know if they have plans on returning. Maybe you should try the Saint Ezekiel Hospital over on Hobbitt Boulevard.”“Saint Ezekiel’s?” Quinn asked. “What happened?”“Sorry, I can’t offer any more information than that,” the lady said. “Have a good one.” She walked away to help another customer.“Bitch,” Nikko said venomously. He knocked one of the napkin holders off the bar as the boys headed out of the door.************************************Saint Ezekiel’s was one of the two major hospitals in the City of Holton Terrace, and it was always crowded. Today was no exception - as a matter of fact, it seemed to be even more packed than usual for some reason by the time the boys got there. On one couch, a pale, shivering, sweaty child rested in his mother’s lap as she rocked him gently and patted his head. She looked up at the boys with sad, tired eyes, her make-up smeared and her hair a whirlwind on the top of her head. On another couch sat an older gentleman holding a bloody towel around his hand. He, too, looked up at the boys as they passed, obviously struggling to keep his breathing even. In this corner was a grieving family, the women sitting, holding each other, crying, the men silent, trying to hide their tears and frustration. One of the younger males of the family suddenly sent a small end table hurling into the air like a kernel of popping corn and stormed toward the exit, hissing profanities. No one in this corner could stand to look at each other, let alone the boys or any other passersby.The boys stepped up to the receptionist’s desk, Quinn in the lead. “Hey, how’s it goin’? Can we see a patient by the name of Jazmine Turner?”“Are you family?” the prissy nurse asked. She looked over the top of her glasses at the boys, her back straight and her fuzzy red sweater appearing to be stuck to her arms.“Naw, we coworkers of hers,” Quinn said.The nurse pursed her lips at him and pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. “Judging by your apparent ages, or lack thereof, I highly doubt that that is possible.”“Ma’am, please.” Soddy placed a hand gently on the counter and looked the nurse in the eye. “We haven’t seen Ms. Turner in a while, and we really miss her. We just wanna make sure she’s okay, that’s all. You can even watch us if you want to.”The nurse looked into Soddy’s puppy eyes and sniffed. She pushed a clipboard with paper and a pen attached with a small metal chain toward the boys. “Sign in,” she demanded.The boys huddled around the clipboard to obey. Nikko sneered at the nurse from the corners of his eyes. “Man, what’s wrong wit’ mafukkas today?” he asked. Quinn and Soddy shoved at him, shushing him quiet. The nurse looked up from her computer to give Nikko a disapproving glance, then dismissed him as she lifted her nose even higher in the air and loudly sucked at one canine tooth.A moment later, she pushed away from the computer and stood up. “Follow me,” she ordered and began leading them down the hall.“You smell mothballs?” Nikko asked, waving a hand in front of his face as the nurse walked past. Soddy hissed at him. “Naw, never mind. That’s prolly comin’ from between her old, rotten ass legs….”Quinn pulled at his arm. “We gonna make you sit in the waiting room if you don’t get right,” he whispered.The nurse whipped back around to look at the boys as she suddenly stopped outside of Jazmine’s hospital room. The boys practically ran into each other as they stopped in front of her, all smiles. “Ms. Turner is in the second bed, resting. You have ten minutes, and then I’m going to have to ask you boys to leave the premises. I’ll be waiting for you at the front desk.” The nurse walked back down the hall the way they had come.Quietly, the boys stepped into the room and approached Jazmine’s bed. She was hooked up to an oxygen machine, her eyes closed. Both eyes were blackened, but one was swollen shut. The top of her head was bandaged, blood seeping through in a large circle. One corner of her bottom lip looked bitten off, and her skin was pale.The boys huddled around her bed, shock and worry on their faces. “Jazmine?” Quinn said her name softly.Slowly, she opened her good eye. Recognizing the boys, she smiled thinly. “Hey, guys.” “Jazz, what happened?”“Damn, Jazzy, I hardly recognized you wit’ your titties covered,” Nikko said, amazed. Soddy sucked his teeth at him in admonition.Jazmine chuckled, closing her eye against the pain. “Don’t make me laugh, dragon breath,” she begged. “I already feel like I got ran over by a train.”“Jazmine, what happened to you?” Quinn asked again. Jazmine shook her head slowly. “Sweetie, I don’t know. All I know is some guys broke into my house while I was asleep one night and beat the living shit outta me. They said to tell my boyfriend to keep his mouth shut.”Quinn grabbed her hand, and the boys gazed down at her, speechless. Although they didn’t say so yet, the wheels in all three of their heads were turning.Chapter 19Everything was moving at an extremely rapid pace now for the boys, between Soddy’s School of Dance, as the school had officially been named, and the many interviews, the many phone calls and letters now pouring in, the many rehearsals and performance dates, managing bills, signing paperwork, racing to photo shoots and office meetings and videoconferences to meet new people telling them what to do, et cetera. And in the midst of the fast, hectic life and lights was the trail of violence that seemed to have somehow been unleashed in the short time that the boys had been associated with the Ricochet. The sudden hustle and bustle of “show business” had eaten up nearly all of the boys’ free time, and the recent talk about having the boys flown out to participate in concerts that the larger-than-life “big-time” artists were hosting in other states and countries was a sure sign that things would not be slowing down any time soon. Although the boys were together for very large portions of the day, their work did not provide many opportunities for them to socialize one-on-one with each other until the end of the day and during the rushed half hour that they spent dressing in the mornings. It was during these times that the boys had to snatch chances to discuss the situation with Jazmine and Tariq among themselves, in private.“Maybe it’s the psycho monk and that horny school bitch,” Nikko said from the bathroom through a mouthful of toothpaste.Soddy, who was sitting on the floor of the living room pulling on a pair of socks, dully looked up at the back of his brother’s head.Quinn, who was at the kitchen sink washing his underarms with a soapy rag, cut his eyes toward the bathroom in exasperation. “Her name was Francis, and she ran an orphanage, not a school,” he said. “Both of those people are dead by now, anyway. Of course it wasn’t them.”“Orphanage, school. Same thing. Well, who is old boy that own the beach house where that party was at the night Tariq died?”“The night Tariq was murdered,” Soddy spat. “Those sick sons of bitches raped and murdered him.”Quinn and Nikko both turned to look at Soddy for a moment. Finally, Nikko said, “Fine, then. Who owned the house where Tariq was raped and murdered.”“That’s a good question, I guess,” Quinn said. “It was more than one person that attacked Jazmine, though.”“Yeah, I know,” Nikko said, picking his short afro out as he stepped out of the bathroom. “But maybe the two crimes ain’t even related.” He threw the brush down on a balled-up blanket on the floor and started pulling on a t-shirt.“That’s bullshit,” Soddy said, buttoning his shirt. “It’s like they happened one after the other. Two of our friends out of everybody else at the club. Too much of a coincidence. Something just ain’t right about the whole thing.” He began pulling on a pair of slacks.Nikko was pulling a belt through the belt holes on his blue jeans. “All I know is right now, we do not have time to get involved wit’ no damn investigations we can’t even help wit’,” he said.Quinn was already pulling his blue jean jacket on. “And all I know is I hope no one else gets hurt,” he said. Nikko and Soddy turned to look at him. Nikko was pulling his sunglasses and camouflage fishing hat on. Soddy was fully dressed, adjusting his large, shiny belt buckle. Both didn’t know what to say to Quinn’s comment.Quinn turned around and reached for the front door’s knob. “Let’s go.”*************************************Club Sparkle was packed to the brim by the time the boys made it there. It was nighttime, and the boys were tired from all the activity of the day, but they were resolved to dance until their legs fell off if they had to.Blue neon lights were everywhere in the dark club, highlighted by bright flashes of white light that crossed the room every now and then. Waitresses in short black skirts passed this way and that, carrying trays full of alcoholic drinks and pretzels. Huge bouncers stood by the entrance, patiently waiting for the next fight that was sure to break out. A few solicitors walked among the patrons selling roses and glow-in-the-dark jewelry. The place smelled of stale liquor, sweat, cigarettes and cheap perfume. “It’s a step down in class, y’all, but at least it’s legal,” Quinn said as the three boys observed the scene from behind the stage curtains. “And that check will make it all worth it.”“I don’t see nothin’ wrong wit’ it,” Nikko said, popping a few pretzels in his mouth.Their performance was the show of the night, and the boys had decided to do a routine that would fit the season. It was the beginning of November, and Hallowe’en had not too long ago passed.Nikko and Soddy had to dress as vampires in black tuxedos and capes while Quinn was dressed as an average young man in jeans and a t-shirt. Smoke filled the stage and Quinn came strolling out onto the stage. All three boys were fastened to “invisible” ropes that were mechanized to lift them into the air at different moments during the performance and allow them to stand on makeshift boulders built onto contraptions that had been designed to resemble the walls of a cave. To the beat and rhythm of the music, Nikko and Soddy stealthily followed Quinn during his little walk onstage until finally they swooped down upon him, pulling him down into a thick cloud of smoky fog. When the boys stood back up into full view and hidden fans began to blow the fog away, Quinn’s face was as pale white as Nikko’s and Soddy’s, his canine teeth elongated and his eyes the same golden yellow as his dance partners’. Together, they danced as the trio of the undead, flipping and flying into the air from one boulder to the next, from the stage back to the boulders, dancing ad lib one minute and in sync the next.At the end of the song, smoke filled the stage once more, and the boys danced until they disappeared. The lights went out. Suddenly, a great flash of white light erupted onto center stage, and everyone caught a glimpse of Soddy dressed as the Grim Reaper, holding a bloody heart out to the crowd in one hand, gently squeezing it over and over again for effect.The crowd went wild.In the dim golden brown lights that lined the walls along the back of the club, while onstage holding the fake heart, Soddy saw something that made him pause, hold his breath and stare. “Soddy!” Quinn hissed from behind the curtains. The boy snapped out of his trance and retreated offstage before the stage lights could cut back on, and the security guards and bouncers rushed forward to contain the more intoxicated patrons that struggled to climb the stage and follow him.*************************************That night, the boys ate generic leftover spaghetti and garlic bread that they had bought from the store and cooked the night before. The stars twinkled into the small studio apartment through the big picture window.“I just don’t get it,” Quinn said, chewing slowly on the bread. “’They’ did what they did to Tariq. ‘They’ got Jazmine. Who is ‘they?’ How is ‘they’ connected to the Ricochet? Why Tariq and Jazmine?”“It’s almost like some secret gang is targeting Ricochet employees,” Nikko said between bites of what was supposed to be a meatball.“It’s a man,” Soddy said quietly as he slowly twirled his fork between his noodles. In the soft moonlight, his eyes looked up toward the boys. “There was a man at Club Sparkle. I couldn’t really see good in there, but I coulda swore it looked like he had a scar on his face.”Nikko smacked his lips. “He prolly one of the victims, then. Man, lil’ bro, what you see in a man wit’ a scar on his face gotta do wit’ what we talkin’ about?”“Naw, wait a minute,” Quinn said, putting his half-eaten slice of bread on top of the spaghetti in his bowl. “Wait a minute, Soddy may be on to something here. Didn’t Ian say something about a man wit’ a scar always coming down to the Ricochet to watch Tariq?” Quinn looked at Soddy with half-fear and half-wonder. “Is that who Tariq was datin’?”Soddy’s head was nodding, his face frozen in fear. “He was watchin’ me, y’all. He was just standin’ there watchin’ me.”Nikko threw his fork into his bowl and set it on the floor. “Oh, my g-- Come on, y’all. We done already said this was a group of people. How did we go from a group to a man wit’ a scar? We can’t blame him for what a whole group of people did.”“But that man wit’ the scar can tell us what the fuck is goin’ on here,” Quinn said. “The question is, who is the man wit’ the scar?”“Ian would know,” Soddy said.“But he ain’t been fuckin’ wit the Ricochet ever since Tariq…”The boys fell silent for a moment. Then Nikko said, “Let’s go back to the subway tunnels. Where we first met him.”Quinn was shaking his head. “But if this mafukka wit’ the scar already killed Tariq, why go after Jazmine?” No one answered him. Suddenly, he said, “You did it, didn’t you, Nikko? Keep it real, yo.” He smiled.Nikko smiled back. “Man, I’d slap you wit’ one of these nasty ass noodles.” The two laughed.The only one not smiling was Soddy. Inside, he felt the poisonous vibrations of fear.Chapter 20Nikko wanted to ignore the fact that the three boys had rehearsal for the Katherine Baker concert, but of course Quinn and Soddy refused this advice. After an unusually long rehearsal session, the boys made a beeline through the dusky streets as they headed straight for the subway tunnels beneath Government Gardens.It didn’t take the boys long to find Ian. Rush hour was coming to an end, and the maze of tunnels was beginning to clear out for the rest of the evening. The crying sounds of Ian’s electric guitar were not hard for the boys to recognize, and they followed them until they reached him.They found Ian sitting beside one of the metal columns, inches away from the railroad tracks. His fingers plucked a slow, screeching song from his guitar. His dirty yellow hair hung down over his bowed head, too wet to clearly see his features through the strands.“Ian, what’s good, son?” Nikko asked. Ian looked up, his eyes distrustful at first and then filled with excitement as he recognized the boys.“Hot damn!” he said, jumping to his feet to smother the boys in bear hugs. His funk was overpowering. “It’s good to see you guys! I knew one day you’d come down here for me! How you been?”“Been good, Ian. Been good. We stopped by Saint Ezekiel’s and saw Jazmine not too long ago,” Quinn said.“Yeah, she told me. Thanks a lot, guys. That was pretty cool.”“How come you ain’t been coming around the Ricochet lately?” Soddy asked.“Man, something’s wrong with that place. Fuck the Ricochet. I know Jazmine got jumped on because of something to do with that place.” Ian’s face clouded in anger for a moment, then he looked at the boys as he fished in his pocket for half a cigarette and a lighter. “But I hear from a couple of girls there that you guys have been missing in action your damn selves.”“We been so busy wit’ concerts and new gigs and shit,” Quinn explained.“Yeah!” Ian exclaimed. “Hey, I saw you three on a couple magazine covers here recently. Didn’t I tell you motherfuckers you were good?” He smiled.Quinn tried to smile back, but inside his heart was hurting that fate had not been nearly as kind to Ian. “Yeah. You should really give us a call sometimes, Ian. It’d be good to hear from you.”Ian nodded, the sad gray coloring his face again.“Look, Ian,” Soddy stepped a little closer, dropping his voice slightly so Ian would understand that this part of the conversation was confidential. “About that Ricochet thing. We think something’s up with that place, too. And it’s that mafukka wit’ the scar. Remember him?”Ian’s eyes squinted with reflection. “Yeah. Yeah, I remember him. The weird fucker that used to watch Tariq all the time.”Soddy fell quiet, casting a fearful glance over his shoulder suddenly.“Right. Him,” Nikko took the conversation over. “You know who he is?”Ian’s brow furrowed as he tried. Running a hand through his filthy hair, he said, “He was some kind of friend of Mr. McCoy’s. Tariq introduced us at the party, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I didn’t like the guy. Thought he was so slick, so superior. I wish I could remember his name. Andrew or Anthony or Artemis. I can’t remember for sure. But that asshole Mr. McCoy would know. He would know exactly who that motherfucker was.” He smacked a fist into his palm and pointed at the boys, anger now in his eyes. “You know what, I knew something was fucked up about that guy. I always did. I swear, if I find out that that son of a bitch had anything to do with Jazmine gettin’ beat like that, or even with Tariq, for that matter, I’m gonna snap his fuckin’ neck.”The boys exchanged glances. Mr. McCoy? Could it be possible?“Well, we’re gonna head over there soon as we leave from here,” Quinn said. “We gotta have a little talk wit’ Mr. McCoy.”“Well, you’d better talk fast, buddy,” Ian said. “I’m callin’ the cops and gettin’ that place shut down.” He jabbed a finger toward the ground. “Tonight.”The boys began heading toward the stairs.“Oh, hey!” Ian called out. He began opening one of his many cases that he seemed to live out of and probably did. Quickly, he tossed a small purse over to Soddy. “I almost forgot. I got a chance to grab that from Tariq’s locker backstage before I left that hellhole. I think you guys should have it.”*************************************The boys ran the couple of blocks to the Ricochet, trying to make it there for a confrontation with Mr. McCoy before Ian could get to a phone and the police could make it to the establishment. Because the location was downtown, however, and especially so close to Government Gardens, the police responded to the call as quick as lightning.The boys’ run slowed down to a crawl when they saw how many squad cars were lined up along the alley and around the block that surrounded the warehouse-looking building.Step by slow step, the boys approached the alleyway, looking up at the building as if seeing it for the first time. The mouth of the alley gaped open like the wide, black mouth of hell.Suddenly, gunshots were going off from what seemed like all directions, booming thunderous explosions of rifles and the steady pit-pat of machine guns. Shouts could be heard coming from somewhere within the alley, then people began running out in herds, falling over one another in their haste. Some were half-dressed, some were obviously still high and drunk. All were frantic.Nikko, who had ducked at the first sound of gunshots, was now standing with his legs and arms spread open, looking like a frightened cat. Quinn took a few steps back. Soddy had not moved. He shook his head now. “No,” he said through his gritted teeth. “Hell, naw. I ain’t runnin’ till we find that motherfucker.” He began boldly approaching the hellhole mouth of the alley, Nikko and Quinn following close behind him.Within the midst of the horde, Nikko spotted Mr. McCoy running out, sweaty and wild-eyed, his tie undone and his suit jacket flapping open. Grabbing him roughly by the collar, Nikko slammed the man against one of the trash receptacles along the wall of the alley. Briefly, Mr. McCoy struggled to get away, but Nikko was too strong for him to fight off.Slamming the man against the dumpster again, Nikko said, “You had somethin’ to do wit’ Tariq and Jazmine, didn’t you?”Vehemently, Mr. McCoy shook his head. “Wh- wh- what? What you talkin’ about, man?”“You heard him,” Soddy spat, stepping closer to Mr. McCoy. “You was in on Tariq’s murder and Jazmine gettin’ beat. Nigga, ‘fess up!”Mr. McCoy’s lips pulled back to bare his teeth. “I don’t know shit about that! They worked for me, got damn it! They made me money!”Quinn stepped closer, his voice low but firm. “Who is the motherfucker wit’ the scar?”For a split second, Mr. McCoy’s eyes grew dim, then widened again. “I don’t know! Some nigga named Antonio, used to come to the club! He used to suck me off, I’d give him cash, do little favors for him! I don’t know no more than that, man, I swear, I don’t know!” The boys paused and stared at Mr. McCoy for a moment in shock.He struggled once more, but Nikko wasn’t letting go. “Antonio what?!”Suddenly, a sound like a bomb going off erupted from within the building, causing some people in the streets to yelp in fear. “I don’t know, I don’t know!” Mr. McCoy shrieked even louder. Somehow, his fear gave him added strength, and he yanked away from Nikko with all of his might. “Get off me, young blood!” He looked at the boys as he backed away sloppily. Blood glistened on his swollen bottom lip from his bout with Nikko. “I don’t know him! Antonio, that was his name, that’s all I know! Y’all got the wrong one!”He ran off wildly down the street, pushing people out of his way as he fled.**************************************That night at the studio, Soddy held Tariq’s purse in his hand, gazing silently down at it. Nikko and Quinn watched somberly, respectfully giving the boy the quiet time he needed.Eventually, Soddy gently packed the purse away with the other belongings he had acquired over the past couple of months and went to sleep without a word.Chapter 21Life went on after the police raided the Ricochet and shut it down for another unprecedented amount of years, and the boys developed no loss of business or attention. It seemed like every artist to ever decide that they wanted to make a name for themselves now wanted to collaborate with Underrated Works. The three found it somewhat challenging to remember and make it to every appointment scheduled, but somehow Quinn made it work. Many different managing specialists approached the group, but Quinn was extremely critical of each and because the group was thriving well enough on its own, no one contested his hard bargains.Soddy and Quinn celebrated Nikko’s birthday the way he requested - by the riverside along the river that wound through downtown Holton Terrace. The three boys sat on one of the metallic arms of the bridge beneath the traffic, high above the water, with marijuana and beer. Nikko had also requested women, but the boys had failed to fulfill such a request, and none of them bothered to bring up the fact. They all knew that their social lives were limited already, and Nikko was well aware that it was difficult to find a female within city limits that was not under the common impression that he was unfaithful and unworthy of trust, let alone one that didn‘t want money in exchange for their intimacy. While sitting on their perilous perch beneath the city’s bridge, Nikko poured his liquor out in honor of all the lives he had seen slip away - his parents’, Quinn’s parent’s, Tariq’s. Shortly afterward, he became sullen and silent, and Quinn decided that it was time to climb back onto the “safe” part of the bridge and get back to solid land, much to Soddy’s exquisite relief.At the beginning of December, Katherine Baker and her associates concluded that it was finally time to start incorporating her big debut with Underrated Works. Because of her gruff, demanding demeanor, her associates pressed for the incorporation a little harder than Katherine Baker herself did. The boys were more than honored, however, because Katherine Baker was such a phenomenal singer and dancer. All three boys were focused predominantly on Katherine and her performance. As important as Tariq and the man with the scar were, there was simply no time to concentrate on them. Even Soddy did not even mention the encounter at Club Sparkle, although he had not completely forgotten about seeing the figure at the back of the club, feeling the menacing eyes memorizing every part of his flesh through the thick robe and hood. Quite often he wondered about the significance of his dressing as the Grim Reaper. Was that what had made the man with the scar single him out? How should he feel about that? Should that make him afraid to perform anymore? As much as he tried to fight this line of thinking, Soddy was no fool. He was beginning to develop a wariness associated with his performances, and his instincts were telling him to fight.The problem was that Soddy was not accustomed to having to fight, and therefore he could not do it very well or for very long. Quickly, he was losing energy and patience for the fight. Between attempting to satisfy his obligations to Quinn and Nikko regarding Underrated Works and his obligations to Soddy’s School of Dance, who looked up to him as some sort of sensei, and the fact that he had not really had the adequate amount of time that it would take for him to personally come to grips with the many emotional changes he had been experiencing lately, Soddy was beginning to involuntarily crack. He was becoming increasingly hostile, increasingly withdrawn.Originally, the concert with Katherine Baker was supposed to take place on a sand-covered pagoda with the crowd gathered on the shore, along the beach. The weather was predicted to be unusually warm still for the beginning of December and, although swimming was naturally discouraged, the weather was supposed to be warm enough for a well-bundled crowd to gather comfortably. The dancers were to dance in couples in half-tango, half-street fashion. The weather proved everyone wrong, however, and the temperatures took a nosedive as it drew closer and closer to show time. The producers were wild with frustration.“Why don’t we just move it into the Imax Theatre?” Quinn asked one of the producers, indicating the theatre along the shore where the pictures came in exceptionally clear and close up to the observer’s face. The producers loved the idea.The new routine featured the same dance moves beneath a holographic lightning storm that flashed across the entire dome-shaped ceiling of the theatre. A huge movie screen at the back of the stage exhibited the real storm that was taking place outside. The result was like a debonair performance in the belly of a severe thunderstorm.The concert turned out to be another wild success, and the boys received a ton of praise for their originality and adept skills. Toward the end of the show, Katherine Baker came down from her perch in the center of the pagoda onstage and stood in between the boys, and the four of them gave the crowd an ad lib performance that left the place raving below the bright streaks of light and rumbling clouds.Backstage, after the concert had come to a close and everyone who had anything to do with its success was brimming with joy, excitement and satisfaction, Katherine Baker gave each of the three boys a long, tight hug. Quinn, Nikko and Soddy had given away enough of their own autographs that night to be sure that they would still be signing their names in their sleep, but Katherine’s smile, hugs and signatures were indeed the highlight of the entire evening. She had been so impressed that she even invited the boys out for lunch the next day to say ‘thank you’ for their help and dedication, but Soddy wanted to celebrate tonight.“Well, I believe that everyone is pretty tired tonight after such a vigorous show,” Katherine said in her slight Russian accent, her half-naked body glistening with perspiration. “But if tomorrow is not a good time for you boys we can always get together later on this week.”“See, the thing is, I have to meet with my school members tomorrow,” Soddy explained. “And I’ve already had to reschedule with them twice this month. They’re paying students.”“Man, lil’ bro, then you’d betta see about them payin’ students,” Nikko said. “Me and Quinn gonna see about Ms. Baker.” He slipped an arm around Katherine, looking at her with a “come hither” stare. Suddenly, his head snapped up, and he looked around quickly. “Is it some more ladies back here, too?”Katherine pulled his arm off of her.The next day, while Quinn and Nikko were away at Katherine’s celebration luncheon, Soddy stayed behind with his crew of five, preparing them for a community function where they were scheduled to perform. The mayor had bought several tickets to attend, which had spurred others from around the state to attend, and the show was sold out, which meant that the team had to be impeccable. Soddy’s School of Dance had had many different applicants ever since the publicity Bullet’s anti-violence concert had brought them, but Soddy was adamant about working only with those who were serious, which made it abnormally difficult to get accepted. As Soddy pointed out, it was not simply a matter of being able to pay the tuition fees. One also had to be dedicated and passionate. These traits were surprisingly uncommon to find among so many applicants who were more full of greed and conceit.Soddy practiced with his group of five at the basketball court behind the school until the day signaled the coming of night with its delicious colors and starry eyes. By the time Soddy had dismissed class, he had to smile with pride as he gazed upon his “crew,” watching them gather their belongings and heavily breathe plumes of fog into the frigid December air. Luckily, December had not yet brought snowfall, but the chill was perfect to balance out the body heat the six of them had worked up feverishly during their practices.Wow, Soddy thought to himself as everyone left to make their way home. My school. Who’d have ever thought?That night, when Quinn and Nikko came back to the studio, still emotionally high from having spent the afternoon and evening with the great Katherine Baker, they unlocked the door and found Soddy chained spread-eagled to the four corners of the walls. His stomach had been slit open, and his bowels sat in a hot pile in the middle of the floor. His eyes were wide and full of confusion and horror as though he had just found himself.Chapter 22Once again, death had reared its ugly head, and this time Nikko was in no position to object when the police were called. As he hugged the toilet and vomited over and over again, Quinn made the call, fighting back his own nausea. Quinn avoided the sight of the mutilated body at all costs, and during the forty-five minute wait that it took for the police to arrive, he took the time to shed tears for the quiet, sweet Soddy that was now no longer with them. Between great sobs and wails, Nikko’s sickness would ebb, only to return moments later with even greater ferocity. Quinn made sure that his back stayed turned to Nikko with every tear he shed, knowing that Nikko needed strength and support more than shared grief or pity right now. Even after the police had arrived and summoned a very inebriated looking Reggie to the premises, Nikko was still crying from the depths of his soul, and anyone with a heart would have been glad to shed a few or more tears in his place if they would have seen the boy’s sorrow.One of the officers questioned Quinn as the medical personnel removed Soddy’s body from the studio apartment. Nikko had locked himself in the bathroom and after the police had looked in on him, no one disturbed him as they listened to the sounds of his repetitious dry heaving from behind the door.“You say the victim’s name was Soddy Villareaux?” the officer asked, his pen poised over a small notepad in his hand.“Soddy. Yeah, um… DeSardi, I think,” Quinn said numbly. He felt as if he were answering from the smoky grip of a dream. The officer’s pen went into convulsions on the paper.Moments later, the officer asked, “And you say you and his brother… Nikko….” The officer’s pen pointed to some word on the paper, and he took a quick glance at Quinn over his v-shaped brow.“Dominique. Yeah,” Quinn said, his voice hoarse like sandpaper in his throat.“Dominique Villareaux.” The officer scribbled some more. “So you two came back here and just found-” The officer now pointed at his pad again. “-DeSardi just hanging there like this.” He held a hand out to where Soddy’s body was slowly being lowered to the floor of the studio. He was no longer holding the pen and pad to his face but was looking Quinn squarely in the eye.Lifelessly, Quinn’s eyes stared back into the officer’s. “Yes, sir.” The two looked at each other calmly for a moment, then the officer rose onto his toes and came back down onto his heels. Nodding and pursing his lips, he placed the pen onto the pad again.“Are there any enemies the victim might have had that might have wanted to harm him, by any chance?” the police officer asked with faux patience.“A guy named Antonio,” Quinn responded immediately.The officer’s pen was going then stopped, and the officer was looking at Quinn over the top of his brow again. “Antonio,” the officer said. Quinn nodded yes, and the two continued to look at each other until the officer asked impatiently, “Antonio what?”Quinn shook his head. “I don’t know.”The officer looked up toward the ceiling and sighed. He tapped the top of his pen against his notepad. “Where do you know Antonio from?” he asked, pronouncing the question a little too distinctly, as though he were beginning to doubt Quinn’s intelligence.“The Ricochet Nightclub,” Quinn said and paused as the officer’s pen began dancing again.The officer’s pen stopped, and he grimaced in Quinn’s direction but not directly at him. The pen fell back to the pad waiting, poised on the paper. “Go on,” the officer growled impatiently.“We used to dance there, and Antonio used to come there to see a friend of ours named Tariq, who also got killed while on a date with him. Soddy told us Antonio was at Club Sparkle early last month, watching him, and now….” Quinn’s eyes darted over to the picture window as they began to water. The tears remained cupped in his lower eyelids, refusing to fall when Quinn realized that the officer had stopped writing and was now watching Quinn intently.“So, Antonio was watching you.” The officer’s question sounded like a statement.“Yeah.” Quinn squeezed his eyelids closer to the bridge of his nose with one hand, wiping the wetness away without trying to appear to do so. He looked at the officer.“Now, you guys are dancers, right?” the officer asked. “You get watched often?”Quinn’s breath caught in his throat as he began to realize what the officer was insinuating. “Yeah, but dancers don’t usually end up stalked by the same patron and then mysteriously murdered,” he countered, feeling his blood begin to boil.The officer blinked a few times then smiled at Quinn patronizingly. “What does Antonio look like, Mr. Jackson?”Quinn closed his eyes, struggling to keep his anger under control. “He’s got a scar,” he said. He opened his eyes.The officer’s pen was still going. “What else?”Quinn gave a quick shake of his head. “I don’t know.”The officer cocked his head, casting Quinn a confused glance before looking around at his fellow officers as in disbelief. Quinn caught a couple of them smiling slightly. “You don’t know?” he asked. “So Antonio has been stalking you guys at these clubs, but you don’t know anything else about his looks other than the fact that he has a scar? What side of his face is the scar on?” Before Quinn could answer, the officer interrupted with another question. “Have you ever actually seen this guy Antonio?”Quinn, who had kept his arms folded during the questioning, now stuffed his hands in his pants as he felt his fists ball up in anger. “No. Clubs are usually pretty dark, and I was never formally introduced to any stalkers or murderers to my knowledge. Sorry.”The officer threw his hands in the air, shrugging in exasperation. “So we have no description or other personal information on this guy that you claim has been causing so much trouble. We don’t even have a full name. But we’re supposed to believe that he’s the culprit.”Quinn spoke slowly, staring at the officer unblinkingly. “Can you help us or not?”The officer sighed again, folded his notepad and put it away with his pen, shaking his head. Moving toward the door, he said, “We’re gonna do an autopsy on the body, Mr. Jackson, and take a couple fingerprints around here, but I’ve gotta be honest. You’re not givin’ us a lot of ammo here to ‘help’ you with.”An image of the officer hanging by chains with guts trailing to the floor flashed through Quinn’s mind, but he spoke not a word.The officer stopped at the door and looked back at Quinn before leaving the apartment. “You can’t just go around accusing people you barely even know of stalking and murdering your friends, Mr. Jackson. In the world of law, evidence goes a long way.”Quinn stood there, gritting his teeth together as he watched the officer descend the stairs.Reggie, who had been standing silently, listening and watching, now hacked up a ball of phlegm from the back of his throat and, this time, he spit it right onto the floor, inches away from Quinn’s feet. “I want you outta here by next week,” he said, then stumbled behind the officer and down the stairs.************************************Because of the boys’ growing reputation, fame and paychecks, the search for new residence was not difficult at all. The hardest part of the whole process was finding time to perform the hunt in between everything else that was going on. Eventually, Quinn found a condominium apartment in the Silver Lining District, the small section at the northeast corner of Holton Terrace that currently served the manufacturing industries with a handful of upscale lofts and apartment buildings in between.The thirty-fourth story apartment was impressive, very modern and artistic. The ceiling, which was decorated generously with painted designs and fans made of cherry wood and rich gold, towered high above the boys’ heads. The Queen Anne windows stood tall and majestic, welcoming a marvelous skyline of Holton Terrace and a view of the heavens outside. Each window came with its own plush window seat. The cherry wood floors were so shiny that one could see their face in it. There were two large bedrooms with their own entrances to the wide, open patio and Jacuzzi, a velvet-walled dining room where the last tenants had obviously left a thick Oriental rug in the middle of the floor, an exquisitely designed bathroom with lots of glass, mirrors and silver appliances, its own walk-in dressing room and a few benches, and a kitchen made of the same cherry wood that was in the living room and tiles imported from Arabia. The kitchen also had access to the patio. Quinn had made sure that the kitchen was in a room by itself.Crime still reached this section of the city, however, as the boys stepped out that night and witnessed paramedics carrying away a man that had been shot to death in an alley across the street from the building.Chapter 23Over the next few weeks after Quinn and Nikko had moved into their new apartment, Quinn noticed a change in Nikko. In the beginning, Quinn did not say anything, realizing that Nikko had to deal with his loss in his own way. Quinn knew that anything he had to say or do to try to quell Nikko’s pain and frustration would mean very little right now. Nikko might or might not verbally admit to such a truth right now, but Quinn’s own experience with loss had taught him the lesson that shadowing and monitoring a person in pain was one of the worst things to do, regardless of how good the intruder’s intentions might be. The best thing for Quinn to do, he knew, was to wait until Nikko reached out to him.And yet, as time went by, Quinn grew less and less sure of what Nikko was reaching for, although the boy was quite obviously reaching for something.Nikko began going out late at night by himself, not even bothering to tell Quinn when he planned to leave or come back or even where he was going. At times the boy would be gone for two or three days. He began missing rehearsals and important appointments without even so much as a phone call. Repeatedly, Quinn made excuses for his partner, covering for him when people began to ask questions or complain.At home, if the two just so happened to cross paths at any point, Quinn would try to speak, only to be shot down abruptly by a rude comment or even simply by Nikko’s retreating back as he headed back out of the door. As much as Quinn would have loved to respond in kind, he knew that not only was Nikko entitled to grieve in his own way and to also keep communication with Quinn to a minimum at a time such as this if he so chose, but that fighting was definitely not going to make the situation better, only worse. So, as hard as it was for him, Quinn bit his tongue with all of his might.On more than one occasion, Quinn was awakened in the middle of the night from a sound sleep to the sounds of Nikko having sex with one or more females in the next room.On another occasion, Quinn was awakened by the sounds of loud, booming music coming from Nikko’s room. As Quinn got up to go to the bathroom, mumbling sleepily to himself about how hard he would have to beat Nikko across the back of his skull in order to produce the same amount of bass, he almost ran right into a strange man coming out of the bathroom. The man blew marijuana smoke in his face. “What’s good, son?” the man asked, going into Nikko’s room. Sounds of a small party rushed out into the hall.One morning while Nikko was away, doing whatever wherever with whomever, Quinn suddenly found himself going through Nikko’s bedroom, searching for clues as to who Nikko had become. Inside of one cluttered dresser drawer, he discovered a pile of crumpled up unpaid legal tickets ranging from disorderly conduct to indecent exposure to gambling. Quinn didn’t know the details behind the tickets, as such information was not stated directly on the tickets, but he was appalled that Nikko had acquired so many without breathing a single word about them to Quinn.Quinn had intentions on confronting Nikko with the knowledge of the tickets in hopes of learning why there were so many and why they had gone unpaid. Quinn knew that Nikko would more than likely be upset that Quinn had been sneaking around through his belongings in his absence, but Quinn felt betrayed that Nikko would dig himself deeper and deeper into such a hole knowing how hard it had been just to build the feeble reputation that they had earned thus far so, from Quinn’s point of view, the two would be even. As fate would have it, however, Quinn did not get the opportunity to see Nikko again until two days later, when he showed up late to rehearsal, ragged and smelling of hard liquor. The boy’s dance moves were slow and sloppy, and he stumbled through the routines over and over again until the producers eventually sent him home to sleep off his intoxication, much to Quinn’s fury and embarrassment.Quinn stayed to give the rehearsal his absolute best in an attempt to salvage what he could of the group’s reputation before storming his way back to the apartment, fuming the entire way.When he finally stormed through the front door, breathing heavily from anger, humiliation and the exertion of walking a mile per minute, he found Nikko sprawled clumsily across the shiny living room floor. He slammed the door shut, not bothering to lock it. Nikko lazily lifted his head up to identify the intruder.“What the fuck is your problem?” Quinn demanded.Nikko stared back at him emotionlessly.“What the fuck is wrong wit’ you, Nikko?” Quinn asked again, on the brink of shouting.“Drunk,” Nikko answered calmly. “Miserably drunk. I think I’m gonna be sick.”“Got damn it, Nikko, you can fuck shit up for yourself, but I’m not gonna let you fuck it up for me, too,” Quinn continued, not in the mood for jokes.“Fuck are you talkin’ about, yo?” Nikko asked lazily.“I’m talkin’ about all this destructive ass partyin’ you been doin’. Invitin’ total strangers all up and through this apartment - our apartment. Disturbin’ my motherfuckin’ sleep at night. Bouncin’ out for days on end without the decency to even keep me posted, like fuck me. All this shade you keep throwin’ me, givin’ me the cold shoulder like I done did somethin’ to you. Comin’ to rehearsal too drunk to even perform like you the only one affected by that dumb shit. And don’t think I don’t know about all them retarded ass tickets you been hidin’ from me like I’m slow or somethin’. That’s what the fuck I’m talkin’ about!” Quinn was so upset by now that he was actually hollering. “Do I gotta replace your motherfuckin’ ass as a business partner and a roommate, or what?!”Nikko stared at Quinn, anger now pulling at the corners of his eyes. “Fuck you doin’ goin’ through my shit, then, nigga?” he asked icily.“Kiss my ass wit’ the stupid shit, Nikko!” Quinn yelled. “Fuck you doin’ playin’ wit my motherfuckin’ livelihood like this?!”Nikko was on his feet in a flash. “You selfish ass son of a bitch!” Nikko yelled back. “That’s all you care about, is your mafukkin’ livelihood, right?!”“Selfish?!” Quinn threw back. “Selfish?! You bitch ass nigga, you would still be on the street if it wasn’t for me! Did you forget who the fuck you talkin’ to?!”Nikko grabbed his crotch and thrust it toward Quinn disrespectfully. “Nigga, suck my dick, you high ‘n’ mighty puss’ ass mafukka. My brother would still be alive if it wasn’t for you and yo’ damn livelihood! My nigga gone, and you still hoppin’ around dancin’ and shit like ain’t a gotdamned thang happened! Fuck you, ya heard me?!”The room grew silent, hot and still as Nikko’s words took the time to sting Quinn a little more. Finally, Quinn shook off the pain enough to respond, “So you think he woulda wanted you to go on like this, then, like you don’t give no fuck about nothing and nobody no more? Like you a losin’ ass nigga that ain’t worth shit and ain’t never gon’ be shit? You think this gon’ make him proud or some shit? You think you makin’ Soddy’s death right?” Nikko rushed up, grabbed Quinn by the collar of his shirt and shook him roughly. “You keep my brother name out your motherfuckin’ mouth, son.”Quinn grabbed Nikko’s shirt around his collarbone and shook him back. “I say whatever the fuck I want, long as it’s the truth.”Nikko placed his forehead on Quinn’s and gritted his teeth. “Man, Quinn, I ain’t fuckin’ playin’ wit’ you, G.”Quinn pushed Nikko squarely on his chest, and the boy flew into a sitting position on the couch. The couch tilted back onto its two back legs before settling back on the floor on all four legs. “I ain’t playin’ with you, either.”Instantly, Nikko jumped up and rammed headfirst into Quinn, knocking him flat on his back onto the floor. Sitting squarely on top of Quinn, he bared his teeth and pulled his right fist back. The two boys looked at each other for a while, breathing heavily with emotion. All of a sudden, Nikko’s left hand flew up to his mouth, and his cheeks puffed out. Quinn heard the vomit rushing up into the boy’s mouth and began trying to squirm from underneath him. Nikko got off of Quinn and ran to the bathroom to thrust his face into the toilet just in time.Quinn got up off of the floor and watched from the bathroom doorway for a moment before stepping around him to run a washcloth under some cold water and place it along the back of Nikko’s neck. “Soddy was all I had left, Quinn,” Nikko said when the vomiting had subsided enough to allow him to speak.Still standing at the sink, Quinn looked down at Nikko. “I’m still here, you crazy motherfucker. I’m still here! And for what it’s worth, I love you, man.” He tapped roughly at his own chest with one finger, his voice beginning to crack. “Cain’t I be your brother, too?”Nikko looked sideways at Quinn before grabbing the cloth from the back of his neck and wiping his mouth clean. He stood up, and the two boys threw their arms around each other.Chapter 24Quinn looked around him, awestruck. All around was the brilliant glory of the sun, glowing brightly like the smile of God. Its light was warm, cradling him gently in its arms, making him very comfortable, very happy. Deep, rich colors were all around him, enticing to his eyes. He wanted to see everything, wanted to stay in this place and explore. There were plants and trees on both sides of him, reaching out with their long, damp leaves to tickle his arms and legs. The cool dirt beneath his bare feet looked like black coffee grounds. Flowers bloomed everywhere, even more so than the ones grown at the Government Gardens. Some were purple, some were red, others were white or yellow or pink. There were so many colors, so much life. Butterflies, bluebirds and lightning bugs Quinn could see even in the illumination of the day flittered through the air looking like fairies at play. They seemed to invite him to join them as he would have done if he was still a child. Quinn had never witnessed such beauty.His eyes focused on an open field of flowers a few yards in the distance ahead of him. A crystal clear creek wound its way gracefully through the field, but this was not what had originally caught his eye. Someone was dancing with the birds and butterflies in the middle of the field. Her arms were open wide, her hands seeming to be held by the nature around her as it led her steps. Her white dress floated in the air as she twirled and leaped and twisted and bent. She seemed to support herself on the tips of her toes alone, and her legs seemed to have no limit on how far they were willing and able to stretch or hold.Quinn was so hypnotized by the dance that he did not right away realize that someone had stepped up beside him and slipped an arm around him. Finally looking away from the beautiful dancer in the field, he looked over and saw Nanny Ruth also watching the dancer proudly.A smile was spread across Nanny Ruth’s wide face, fattening her cheeks even more. “That there’s ya mammy, boy,” Nanny Ruth said, and he turned to look at the dancer again with fresh eyes. “She always could dance like an angel.”**************************************When Quinn awoke back to reality, he was confused by the dream at first. As he went through his daily hygienic routine, he thought back continuously on the dream and what exactly Nanny Ruth was trying to tell him. It had been a blessing and a miracle to finally see his mother, although he never got the opportunity to see her face as he so longed to do. He had noticed a pattern, however, over the last few years that Nanny Ruth always visited with a specific purpose or message to fulfill. He knew that this visit had been no different, but he could not immediately decipher what that could have been or how it helped him.And then it occurred to him, almost as though she was still with him in his waking hours, whispering lovingly in his ear. “You can not give up,” a voice seemed to say. “When you dance, it is like helping your mother find the strength and inspiration to continue dancing with the wind in that field of butterflies and flowers.” The thought started a fire in his chest that made him want to dance until he collapsed.The boys’ talk also seemed to inspire Nikko. He had confessed to Quinn that he had also purchased a .32 magnum revolver during his destructive phase because he felt that the “needed added security” since their “incomes was gettin’ so high.” Quinn wasn’t thrilled about the idea, but he knew it would be overstepping his boundaries to try to tell Nikko what to do with his money. He decided to avoid the argument by keeping his opinions to himself.Quinn was glad to know that Nikko had paid off all of his tickets, though, although the fees had bitten a hole into his pocket. Altogether, the total for the ticket fees was $2,300. Nikko had often been on the verge of becoming incarcerated but had avoided such a punishment by the grace of God.Nikko had also stopped having parties and orgies in the middle of the night, even though he still had a different woman every time he brought someone home. He had stopped drinking so heavily and had also begun meeting his appointments on time. He still hardly spoke to Quinn during the week, but he always made it a point, Quinn noticed, to spend the weekends with him. Sometimes they would have a few drinks and watch movies at home, sometimes they would go out, maybe to a cultural event or to the park to play basketball. They usually avoided bars and clubs because they felt as though they were in these environments often enough during working hours. Nikko had even stopped blasting his music in the middle of the night.One recent development in Holton Terrace was the opening of a concert hall named the Indian Bonfire. The place was huge and dazzled like a casino. Sheets of animal skins and furs hung from the rafters of the building, and artificial fire decorated the orange-red tinted lights along the walls. The establishment boasted the concert hall itself, a hotel, a small casino, a dance club, several restaurants and gift shops and a movie theater all in one. Holton Terrace was excited about the obvious sign of growth and although the media refrained from announcing it, many Holton Terrace residents hoped the added business and growing number of tourists that were sure to come would give the medium-sized city more of a New York edge.Nikko had expressed an interest in the Indian Bonfire, of course, for the prospect of the casino alone. He couldn’t wait for the opportunity to try his hand at the poker tables. Quinn, however, was only interested in how the place could expand the boys’ incomes and exposure to the public.“Man, Quinn, I know you about chasin’ that almighty buck,” Nikko commented one morning over a breakfast of cheese omelets, hash browns, wheat toast and orange juice that he had thrown together for the two of them, since Quinn could hardly boil water, “but what’s wrong wit’ havin’ a little fun along the way?”Quinn looked at Nikko over the top of his brow as he smeared strawberry jelly across his toast. “Yeah, whatever. I think you have enough fun for the both of us already.”Nikko slid an omelet onto Quinn’s plate. “Prude.”Quinn took a small bite from the bread. “Freak.”The two boys looked at each other and chuckled.As fate would have it, the boys received a letter of invitation in the mail from the Event Coordinator at the Indian Bonfire requesting them to perform as one of the main attractions for their grand opening night. Quinn’s first reaction was to put the letter aside (the Indian Bonfire was only offering $5,000 for them to perform, and Quinn had offers lined up that paid slightly more), but his eyes kept glancing at it more than once. With more time to reflect, Quinn figured that, although the pay wasn’t very impressive, the idea of being a main attraction at such an entertainment hub, the first of its kind in Holton Terrace’s history, would pay extremely well in exposure. And with this exposure, other large organizations might develop even more interest in making proposals for the boys’ services.Quinn accepted the offer.There was a small ring of fire in the middle of the stage, and Quinn and Nikko had asked Soddy’s School of Dance to participate in the performance. The collaboration made Quinn and Nikko feel as though some part of Soddy was still dancing with them, even from beyond the grave.The members of the dance school, which had now grown to seven, surrounded the circle of flames dressed in grass skirts and feathered headdresses, spears in hand and barefooted. Like tribal natives, they danced as a platform rose in the center of the flames to bring Quinn and Nikko to the stage. The nine performers danced in sync for a while, then the flames shortened enough for Quinn and Nikko to jump over the fiery border and allow them to perform their own separate routine at the front of the stage. While the school members followed along in the background, Underrated Works delivered superb entertainment in the midst of the flames that splashed upward from sporadic areas in the stage floor.The cheers, roaring applause and cries of delight from the audience were evidence that they had not been disappointed.Later that night, after the performance, Quinn felt so exhausted that he went up to the boys’ complimentary hotel room and went straight to sleep while Nikko took a couple hundred dollars to the casino. The next morning, he handed Quinn $1,000 worth of winnings.“What’s this for?” Quinn asked, confused.“Man, bro, I owe you a lot more than that,” Nikko said, and then started making hissing sounds and throwing play punches at his older brother Quinn.Chapter 25The grand opening of the Indian Bonfire was wildly successful, and the owner decided to throw a huge party in celebration. Quinn and Nikko were, of course, present, but Nikko wound up going home shortly after arriving. Quinn enjoyed the mellow, upscale setting because it was different from any other party he had ever attended and insisted on staying, but Nikko was unimpressed by bigwigs and caviar and ice sculptures of swans.Using his key to the front door of the condominium apartment, he tried to disengage the lock on the handle, only to find that the door had already been unlocked. He shrugged. Oh, well, he thought to himself. I guess we forgot to lock the door when we left. Happens to people all the time. Good thing security downstairs watches everybody that goes in and out of the building.He closed the door behind himself and locked it. He paused there in the dark apartment and took a look around. The moon outside cast an eerie, unnaturally bright glow around him, and the silence was utterly complete. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck were giving him tickles of warning, however, although everything was still in place, and there was obviously no one there that he could see or hear besides himself. It’s probably because I’m so used to Quinn being here all the time, he told himself. And yet, without even realizing it, he found himself almost tiptoeing down the long hallway, past the dining room and bathroom and toward the bedrooms, his wide eyes trying to search all directions at once.He had left his bedroom door open, as usual. Even as he continued to steal furtive glances behind him to make sure no one was creeping up behind him or easing out from behind Quinn’s closed bedroom door with harmful intentions, Nikko took step by step toward his own bedroom. Inches from the door, he turned around and froze.The powerfully illuminated face of the moon was eavesdropping through his bedroom and painting the hallway wall directly across from Nikko’s bedroom. There, silhouetted within a rectangle of light, Nikko could see the shadowy image of a man, crouching, waiting for him to enter the room, the man’s hands curled into what could have passed for talons. Nikko could not breathe suddenly, imagining what the man’s face looked like and the scar Nikko was sure would be on it.Nikko took a quiet step backward and looked back toward the front door. Now would be the ideal time to run for it because he would already have a head start before the man could even make it out of the bedroom. But then, Soddy’s limp, cut open body flashed through Nikko’s mind, hanging from the chains connected to the four corners of the studio apartment they used to live in. Nikko felt hatred for the man inside his bedroom right now wash over him, pricking his skin like red hot ants.He ran into the room, charging like an angry bull. Antonio was waiting. The two collided with great force, growling like mad dogs.Nikko pushed Antonio backward, trying to send him through the wall, even as Antonio wrapped his hands around the boy’s neck and began to squeeze. Nikko hit the man once, twice, in the face but the blows did not seem to have any effect on him. Grabbing Antonio’s wrists, Nikko slammed his forehead squarely into Antonio’s face, crushing his nose. Antonio’s grip loosened from around Nikko’s neck, and the two of them fell against the dresser. Antonio grabbed Nikko’s head and slammed it into the dresser mirror, shattering the glass into a warped spider web.Without missing a beat, Nikko whipped a leg out and tripped Antonio onto his back. With the other leg, he kicked the man in his face as hard as he could. He lifted his foot high into the air and sent it zipping down toward the man’s windpipe, but not before Antonio was able to roll out of the way.In a flash, Antonio was on his feet and tackled Nikko, sending him crashing into the wall. Nikko repeatedly hammered his elbow into the man’s spine, trying to break his back. Antonio opened his mouth and dug his teeth ferociously into Nikko’s ribcage, causing the boy to cry out in enormous pain.Nikko sent a foot flying up between Antonio’s legs, crushing the man’s scrotum. Releasing Nikko’s flesh from between his teeth, Antonio grunted in pain and fell to his knees. Grabbing a huge fistful of Antonio’s hair, Nikko reached around to the waistline of Antonio’s jeans and lifted the man like a heavy sack of potatoes. Roaring with the effort, Nikko tossed Antonio through the patio doors and sent him rolling into the Jacuzzi.Thirsty for more vengeance, hungry for more blood, Nikko hurried to grab his gun from the closet and jump through the broken patio doors in pursuit of the villain, only to find the patio and Jacuzzi empty. The kitchen patio door stood open, and a long trail of water was splashed across the limestone walkway that led to it. He followed it, running stealthily, subconsciously trying to keep the man from hearing him approach.The kitchen was empty. Stepping out of the kitchen and into the living room, Nikko noticed the front door wide open and ran out into the hall, no longer trying to be quiet.The hall was empty and quiet, and Nikko instantly realized that the man had to have taken the stairs in order to get away so quickly. He followed.He heard the man clumsily running up the stairwell and pursued him, not stopping to wonder why the man had headed towards the rooftop versus down toward the ground floor. Dancing had kept the boy in shape, but as he took the stairs three and four at a time, he pondered to himself how the man had come to know the layout of the apartment and the building so well. How many times had the son of a bitch been here, unobserved?He burst through the rooftop doorway and looked around at the shadows. The wind was even more powerful here than it had been on the patio, and every gust of wind seemed like an attack approaching. Nikko paused, wondering where to begin searching for the man.Slowly, he stepped around one large air conditioning unit and then circled around one of the elevator shaft houses. Distinguishing a loud rustle behind him, he whirled around, ready to shoot, only to find the trigger still locked and instead was met with a terribly strong blow to the chin. Stumbling, Nikko took a few steps backward, grabbing his chin before running forward to deliver his own blow with the butt of the gun. Over and over again, the two threw punches, driving each other back and forth with the power of each attack. Finally, Nikko stumbled backward onto the ledge of the rooftop, and Antonio fell on top of him, trying desperately to grab his neck and push him over. Nikko struggled with all of the strength he had left in an attempt to lift the man up and over the side with his legs, but Antonio’s body was still wet from his dip in the Jacuzzi, and it was hard to maintain a good grip. Suddenly, Antonio spun out of the way, and Nikko’s legs lifted, empty, into the air, sending the boy flipping and toppling over the edge himself, flailing silently to his death.************************************Mentally recalling the faces and names of the many prominent figures Quinn had been introduced to at the celebration party, he slowly walked up to the condominium apartment building. He looked up and noticed the unusually large crowd of people gathered in the streets directly outside of the building and the yellow police line that had been taped up to keep the spectators from coming too close to the crime scene. Curious to know what had drawn so much attention outside of his building of residence at this time of night, Quinn zig-zagged his way through the horde of people so that he could see.Nikko’s body had caved in the top of a parked car, shattering the car’s windows with the impact of the fall and scattering the shards in every direction. Quinn took one look into the boy’s bloody, lifeless face and tore through the police tape, releasing a sound halfway between a moan and a scream. From everywhere, hands grabbed at him, holding him back, pulling him back into a sea of faces he could not recognize and no longer see.************************************Almost an hour later, as Quinn sat along the curb of the street with a blanket someone had been kind enough to wrap around him, the same officer that had interviewed him at the time of Soddy’s death approached him.“So, once again, you just so happen to come home and find a dead friend at your doorstep. You don’t have a full name for the murderer-slash-stalker, no description, no personal information, no fingerprints at the last scene of the crime, and I highly doubt you’ll have any at this one. Oh, but looky. You’re still here, healthy and hell of a lot richer.” The officer hunched down toward Quinn and lowered his voice. “Hey. Just to let you know, Mr. Jackson, we’re watching you. With both eyes. Huh?” The officer stood again. “The name’s Officer Haines, just in case you forgot. I’ve got a feeling we’re gonna get veeery acquainted with each other real quick.” He walked away.Quinn continued to stare ahead of himself unblinkingly at the .32 magnum revolver Nikko still gripped in his hand.Chapter 26Quinn went through the next couple of months trying hard to block out all consciousness and thought. Memories of Tariq, Soddy and especially Nikko whenever Quinn was present between the four walls of the condominium apartment only brought on waves of pain, anger, confusion and fear. Thoughts of Nanny Ruth and Ledesa in his dreams only lit fires of longing, pain, confusion and loss. The only aspect of his life that he found some sort of solace in was his dancing, and even that had become a struggle to participate in. He just couldn’t seem to get the image of his mother out of his mind whenever he was onstage, or stop recounting the times that he had his brothers Tariq, Nikko and Soddy alongside him during his performances. And yet he believed in his heart and soul that Nanny Ruth, Ledesa and the brothers that he had lost were counting on him to fulfill his destiny, the same destiny that they had helped and encouraged him to pursue.On Soddy’s birthday in early March, Quinn was feeling the loss even more intensely than before. He had a bottle of bourbon delivered up to the apartment and sipped on it in celebration of the boy’s birthday while he watched the sun go down below the horizon.After a few hours of sipping and reminiscing, Quinn finally stumbled into Nikko’s room, which had been left the same way since the tragic fight that had taken Nikko’s life. Slowly, he began to clean up the shards of broken glass and wipe up the blood. In the days that had passed over the last few months, Quinn had avoided the room as if there were monsters inside, which was not so far from the truth.The image of Nikko’s broken body embedded in the top of the vehicle he had landed on and the gun still gripped tightly in his fist flashed through Quinn’s mind as he scrubbed at a droplet of blood on the carpet. He threw the rag into the bucket of soapy water beside him and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes as he tried to fight back the memory. A few seconds later, he looked over at Nikko’s closet, wondering what other secrets were hidden there. If Quinn had never confronted Nikko about his legal tickets, he might not have ever even known about the gun, but now Quinn wondered why he had to fight the man with the scar in his bedroom and how they had wound up there to begin with. What had the man been looking for? What else was here that Quinn did not know about?He crawled over to the closet door and pulled it open. Rummaging around on the floor of the closet, he came across a huge, messy pile of shoes, a shoebox full of pornographic magazines, a black leather case that had obviously kept the gun, judging by the shape of the gray insulation inside, and a black plastic bag filled with a variety of different colored and flavored unused condoms. Also in the black plastic bag was a string of wooden anal beads. Quinn threw the bag back into the closet and away from himself with disgust, refusing to wonder whether or not the beads had been used and on whom.Standing up, he looked through the shelf at the top of the closet, behind another huge, messy pile of hats. It didn’t take him long to find Tariq’s purse. Quinn remembered Soddy keeping the purse in a book bag with some of his own belongings, but for some reason, Nikko had obviously chosen to remove it and keep it here in the corner of his closet, out of sight.Quinn removed the purse and held it for a moment, thinking of Tariq. Sighing to himself, he finally opened it. Inside was a tube of lipstick, a compact of make-up, a pocketknife, a deck of business cards tied together with a rubber band, a single business card and a tape with no label to state what was on it.He took a look at the business card that had been left out of the deck of other cards, which were obviously Tariq’s own personalized cards that had his full name, phone number and title as a professional dancer. On the card that had been singled out was the name Antonio Allen with an address and phone number and a title of business connoisseur. Extracting his cell phone from his pocket, Quinn dialed the number listed for Antonio and found the number disconnected. As though a light suddenly clicked in his head, Quinn’s inner voice reprimanded him for making the foolish mistake of trying to telephone a murderer. Who announces to a murderer when you have information on him?, the voice asked. Quinn quickly placed the card back inside of the purse and pulled out the tape instead.He took the tape to the living room, where the bottle of bourbon was still sitting patiently waiting for him on the end table. He took the tape player out of the living room closet where he had kept it ever since he and Nikko hade moved in and placed it on the new cocktail table he had bought recently. He plugged it into an electrical outlet, slid the tape in and pressed play. Pouring himself another drink, he listened to a few seconds of silence.Sounds like the tape player being adjusted came through on the tape, and then Soddy’s voice, very deep and soothing. “This is a test of the National Broadcasting System. This is only a test.” Soddy giggled, and the sound of it suddenly made Quinn feel as though the boy were right there with him. In his normal voice, Soddy said, “I’m just playin’, y’all. I’m just playin’. Anyway, what it do? If you listenin’ to this tape, y’all already know it’s ya boy DeSardi Villareaux from New Orleans, Louisiana, ya feel me? Shout out to all my peeps from the Dirty South. Much love, baby, much love.” His voice grew softer, more serious. “Much love to my brother Dominique, my big brother. My rock. Cain’t leave you out, Quinn, my role model. Me and Nikko still say you must be an angel, yo, real talk. And Tariq, you know I’m thinkin’ of you and sendin’ you love, wherever you may be right now.” Soddy grew quiet for a few seconds. Quinn took a sip of his drink, trying to clear the tightness in his throat.Soddy continued. “I mean, I might as well get all the shout-outs now ‘cause I’m not too sure I’mma ever make it to the big-time, y’all. You feel me?” Soddy gave a half-hearted chuckle.“I… I can’t get… I can’t shake the feeling that that man is watchin’ me, y’all. And I’mma wind up just like Tariq, one of his victims that can’t nobody help no more. I mean, hell, I’m alive right now and can’t nobody help me the way I need it, so I know for damn sure it ain’t shit nobody can do once you gone.”Quinn shut his eyes against the truth of Soddy’s words.“Nikko, I know you remember being concerned about me being in the streets too long without you because of the risks you said would be against me. And I remember trying to tell you that sometimes threats could come right into your home, so really ain’t none of us ever truly safe. But that’s something Tariq did for me before the motherfucker wit’ the scar took him away from us. He taught me that I don’t ever have to be afraid of anything in life. He taught me that I have a lot to share with the world, even more than dancing, and if I let that son of a bitch stop me from sharing the gifts I have, then he done already succeeded in killing me without even having to touch me.“And that’s why the both of you have to keep dancing. This is our life, our heart and soul, y’all. Don’t let nobody take that away from us. A clever murderer somewhere out there in the streets may be able to do whatever he can get away with to us physically, but we still have a legacy to leave behind. A motherfucker probably succeeded in takin’ Tariq’s life, but he couldn’t stop Tariq from teaching me courage no more than he can stop a countless number of lost and young souls from seeing one of us onstage one day and find the inspiration to make their own dreams come true, against all odds. That right there is ours. And, y‘all, believe me, it‘s strong.”************************************Quinn was inside of a large, beautiful church filled to the brim with singing worshippers belting out the song, “What A Friend We Have in Jesus.” He was wearing a thick, white robe and standing in a small pool behind the pulpit. Nanny Ruth, dressed in her usual multi-colored dress and bandana that covered her head, was standing beside him with one arm wrapped around him, and he could see the love in her eyes, always there, always unshakable.“Hold your breath, baby,” she said to him softly, just loud enough for him to hear over the tumultuous singing. “Don’t be afraid. It’s time for a blessing.”She suddenly placed a large hand on his chest and shoved him backward into the water before he had a chance to stabilize his balance. He fell into it and expected to be raised up again right away so that he could breathe again. Nanny Ruth continued to hold him underwater, however, until he began to grow concerned. He looked up at her and, as his lungs began to burn, he began to panic. Still, Nanny Ruth’s hand remained heavy on his chest. He awoke just as he began to struggle and found himself soaked in sweat, gasping and shivering with panic, confusion and fear.Chapter 27Even after months had passed, Quinn’s nights were filled with the same fear from the day that Nikko was killed. Everywhere he turned there were shadows and eyes glaring at him. He found himself questioning the people who passed him in the streets, what their intentions were, whether they were in cahoots with Antonio, whether they or someone close to them would be Antonio’s next victim. He was having frequent nightmares, sometimes two or three a night. As a result, he was losing sleep at nights, and his body was becoming increasingly tired. He was becoming even more withdrawn. Even at home, he felt as though he were being watched, followed, plotted against. Every sound he heard was cause for him to investigate; he was always poised for an attack, always ready to fight. A few times he caught himself wondering if this was how Tariq or Soddy or Nikko had felt before their deaths.And this frame of mind built up a lot of tension within him, a lot of stress. Unless he was onstage, when he could feel a spiritual connection with the loved ones he had lost, he was lonely and bitter, angry that he had been left alone again without even a photo to remember his loved ones by. Yet he forced himself to stay on the path that he had created for himself. He felt that he literally had nothing left to help maintain his sanity but his career, as fragile and demanding as it was.Although his feelings of loss and fear were with him, following him most of his days and through all of his nights, Quinn knew that he was being watched. Not only was he constantly being admired and talked about by his fans, but he knew that he was also being critiqued and studied by his producers and peers. He knew that there were questions that people wanted to ask, but he spoke little about his personal life. He avoided talking about, reading about or even hearing about what the media might be saying about him. The way he figured it was that living these days was troublesome enough - smiling, dancing, posing, making it promptly to appointments, dealing with his fears, losses and loneliness and managing his legal and financial affairs single-handedly. He simply did not have the time or energy to spend focusing on the hearsay of the public press or curious fans.Dennis Vanzant was a very popular rock star at the time. He had been in show business for almost twenty years and had collaborated with many other artists, from musicians to dancers to actors to talk show hosts. His name was similar to Katherine Baker - it was frequently heard all over the television and radio. Lately, he had been sending letters to Quinn requesting him to agree to collaborate with Dennis. Quinn remembered how little say he had in how the show with Katherine Baker was to be carried out, and the realization that Dennis was just as rich, famous, popular and therefore, probably just as immovable in his ideas as Katherine had been made Quinn somewhat hesitant in his agreement. Quinn was hoping for more opportunities to design his own shows so that others would voluntarily give him more rein over how the shows would go. He didn’t want to outright turn down such a huge artist like Dennis Vanzant, however, because he knew that collaborations with such icons were indeed important in establishing trust, partnerships and exposure. In the end, after several weeks and telephone calls and messages, Dennis was the first to promise Quinn equal control, although Quinn hadn’t even yet voiced his concerns. Quinn finally wholeheartedly agreed to perform hand-in-hand with Dennis.For the next few weeks, Quinn and Dennis spent so much time rehearsing together - implementing ideas, changing this and that, picking music, hiring singers, replacing singers, hiring other dancers and musicians, replacing dancers and musicians where necessary, working with graphics and lights, taking or debating over the suggestions of the producers - that Quinn had very little time, energy or desire to concentrate on Antonio and what his next plans might be. It wasn’t that Quinn was trying to run away from the problem or that he had resolved to believe that Antonio had forgotten about him. On the contrary, Quinn was subconsciously striving to pull together a show that people would remember as the performance of a lifetime before Antonio finally struck again.Regardless of whether Antonio would succeed in hurting Quinn again, Quinn still wanted to light a fire in the hearts and souls of the people that could never be taken away by Antonio or anyone else, just as Soddy had done with his school, as Tariq had done at the Ricochet, as Nikko had done in the lives of anyone who had met him and had a taste of his humor and passion for life and even in the way he had died. After all, no one had really seemed to notice when Tariq and Soddy had been killed, but Nikko’s death had become the talk of the nation. Although no one had mentioned Antonio or the lack of police support nor had anyone bothered to mention the fact that the murder was only one in a series of murders that had taken place in connection with Nikko’s, the media was now dubbing the crime as the murder of an “upcoming hip-hop performer.”Quinn’s collaboration with Dennis, on the other hand, turned out to be simply phenomenal. The performance was scheduled to take place at the Ultimate Throne Theater not far from where the Ricochet awareness of the tragedies. Because of the lack of real information, the subject became a moot topic. Even those daring reporters who were insistent enough to continue digging until they found a small tidbit or two of newsworthy information were intimidated of releasing too much because there were no real methods of validating what they heard without comments directly from Quinn as the source. And they believed Quinn when he warned that he would sue if necessary in order to keep the public out of such a personally hurtful part of his life. Quinn was more than serious about refusing to allow the media to capitalize from exploiting his grief.It seemed to Quinn that he had become a “shot-caller” almost overnight, thanks to his work with Dennis. Suddenly, there were t-shirts made with his dancing form printed on them and dolls made in his image that could be found in stores almost everywhere he went. The name Underrated Works became a common name heard on radio and television. Magazines, newspapers and other printed media seemed to fight over who would be next to interview Quinn. Everywhere he went, he was noticed, recognized and begged for an autograph. He had even purchased his own limousine and driver and was now in the process of interviewing potential bodyguards. He did not even have to leave his home now to search for or book locations to perform or to even shop. Each and every day, he received more than enough prospects who were all willing to pay him for his performing services. Quinn had already decided that once he had hired a couple of bodyguards, his next project would be to search for a manager to help him with the organization and management of his business. The responsibility was simply becoming way too much for him to handle alone when there were so many other vital obligations he had to meet.Now that business and finances were booming off the charts for Quinn, he decided that it was time to start giving back and have a little fun in the process. He rented out a personal airplane and pilot to take him around the world so that he could begin to start accepting invitations from around the world that were now contacting him in hopes of hiring him for shows. He began traveling to Puerto Rico, Africa, China, Australia, Italy, Russia, Canada, and the Netherlands in order to perform. He collaborated with many more big-name artists, especially in the beginning, and then slowly began to do more and more solo shows, always noticing that his shows had huge sale turnouts. Eventually, he became comfortable enough to accept gigs without feeling the need to collaborate with other huge artists. His dedication and imagination were remarkable, and soon the media began calling him one of the best performers of the decade.When he took his second trip to an island off the coast of Saudi Arabia named Mora Blanca, where the people resembled Africans but spoke a mix of African, Spanish and Arabian, he was surprised to find that the people had chosen to place his face on their five dollar bills. During his first trip there he had danced for their President’s wedding, who had recently passed away. He danced until his legs, chest and head burned for these people. His performances had people screaming, crying, dancing for more. By the time he finally left the stage for the last time during that second visit, the people were so moved by him that he was a little afraid that they would riot if he did not continue to perform. In the end, however, he decided to leave the country to head back to America, and there were no incidents that he knew of. He wound up, though, having to pay the price for showing out energetically onstage by having to soak his legs for two hours later that night.Quinn donated money to all sorts of worthy causes - Soddy’s School of Dance, feeding the malnourished around the world, fighting violence and disease, helping rebuild cities and countries that had been damaged, educating children, etc. People loved him, his kind, giving heart, bright smile and laidback personality. He had begun receiving fan mail by enormous bag loads. It took less than a month for his website to receive hundreds of thousands of hits. His new manager, Kirk Delaware, charged a pretty penny, but Quinn didn’t blame him in the least and therefore did very little complaining. The older Caucasian and Mexican man really did have his work cut out for him. As a result of his efforts, Quinn found himself performing with other outrageously large and talented stars such as Beyonce, Floetry, Chris Brown, Drake, Nicki Minaj, Rihanna and Omarion. The list went on and on.Quinn’s bodyguard’s real name was Derrick Bradley, but Quinn had nicknamed him D-Bo, just Bo for short. The gigantic Black man was seven feet and four inches tall and weighed 327 pounds. Quinn had nicknamed him mainly because he knew it was what Nikko would have done.While visiting and performing in Los Angeles, California, Quinn was staying at a hotel not too far from a privately owned airport. On his way back to his room after a show, he was approached in the lobby by a group of fans who asked for his autograph. “Can I come up and chill with you for a couple of minutes?” asked one of the women in the crowd.Quinn took a look at the woman’s pretty face, her thin waistline, wide hips and deep cleavage. It had been a while since he had had sex, almost a year. Biting his bottom lip, he gave her a little smile and nodded his head toward the elevators. “Come on.”He noticed how close the woman stood to him as they rode the elevator up to his suite. “What you say your name was again?” he asked her.“Stephanie,” she said, pulling her hair out of her eyes. Quinn didn’t believe her but didn’t say so. “I really like the way you dance.”Quinn nodded. “Thanks.”They were silent the rest of the way to the room. As he locked the door behind them, Quinn asked, “Would you like a drink? A blunt? Somethin’ to eat?”He turned around on the last word and found Stephanie silently sitting on his couch. She had her legs open but no panties on. Two fingers gently rubbed between her legs as she stared up at him. He sat down on the couch beside her and helped her play with her vagina. Again, he asked, “Would you like a drink? A blunt? Somethin’ to eat?”Stephanie lifted her shirt over her head and let it fall to the floor. She unbuttoned her bra and let it fall beside her shirt, staring at Quinn the whole time. She whispered, “You know what I want.”Quinn took his wet fingers and began to roll one of her erect nipples between them. She arched her back, turned her face up toward the ceiling, closed her eyes and sighed. Watching her thoughtfully, he told her, “You know I’m not paying you shit.”Suddenly, she was cupping his face in her hands, leaning close to stare in his eyes. “I didn’t ask you to.” She kissed him slowly, playfully. As he kissed her back, she grabbed his tongue between her teeth and sucked on it gently.When his tongue slid back into his own mouth, Quinn opened his eyes. With her eyes still closed, Stephanie began to straddle him. He could feel her heat eradiating through their clothes, warm against his groin. Moving her hips in circles on top of him, she leaned toward his ear. He could feel her lips tickling his earlobe as she said, “By the time I’m done with you, you’re gonna be my man.”Quinn closed his eyes as the scent of Stephanie’s hair filled his nostrils. He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”Stephanie stood up and began to walk toward the window. “Why not?” she demanded. Turning slowly around, she looked at him coolly. Her head wagged provokingly as she asked, “’Cause you a star?”Quinn walked over to stand in front of her, looking down into her face. “Because I’m dangerous.”There must have been something in his eyes that intimidated Stephanie at that particular moment because instead of answering him, she simply turned to stare out of the window. She did not bother trying to stop him, however, as he pressed her flat against the window and entered her from behind.************************************The next morning, Quinn was awakened by loud, hard, insistent knocks on his hotel room door.Jumping up and rushing to pull on his underwear, Quinn went to the door and shouted, “Who the hell is it?!”“It’s Bo,” boomed the big man’s voice from the other side of the door. “Come on! It’s eight o’clock in the morning, and if we don’t leave right now, we’re gonna be late! The pilot and Kirk are already on their way to the airport!”“Oh, shit,” Quinn said, running back into the bedroom to pull on his clothes. Roughly, he threw the covers off of Stephanie. “Come on, it’s time to go.”Five minutes later, he was rushing out to the airplane with Bo, both of them carrying luggage.As they were riding in a taxicab to the airport, Bo received a text from Kirk saying that he and the pilot had already made it to the airport, boarded and were impatiently eating and waiting for them to arrive. When Bo and Quinn made it to the airport, they practically ran to the plane. Thankfully, they never made it. Halfway across the landing strip, they were surprised when the plane exploded into flames.The police responded to the accident instantly. It took Officer Haines ten minutes to sidle up to Quinn, chewing on a piece of bubble gum. He stopped in front of him and stood on his toes for a second, pulling on his belt buckle with both hands.“You know, your pilot and manager are both dead,” he said gruffly.Quinn turned around to follow Bo back into the airport so the officer wouldn’t see him tear up.“One moment,” the officer said. Quinn stopped but didn’t turn around. “You know, it’s starting to look like we’ve got a serial killer on our hands. Try not to leave town again for a little while, huh?” Quinn silently began walking away again.Chapter 29Upon hearing the news of how Quinn’s personal airplane exploded, killing his private pilot and assistant/manager, the media began flocking outside of his residence in hopes of squeezing out as much information about the attack as possible. The police also began to be seen around his building quite frequently. More and more, Quinn became aware of a patrol car or two creeping around the corner whenever he walked in or out of his condominium apartment building. A few times, he noticed them parked only a few blocks away from the theater he would perform or rehearse at or the office where he would go to tend to some form of business or another. For the most part, he ignored their watchful stalking. He wasn’t sure whether to be insulted that they believed they had to trail him everywhere he went as if he were actually a dangerous criminal, but knowing that he was constantly being watched by the police also added a slightly uncomfortable security. He knew that they would not always be able to protect him any more than they were able to protect his friends, but at nights when he was lying in bed in the dark, silence and shadows, he half wished that someone were there in the room to watch his back while he slept. Yet he still ignored them when he saw them prowling around everywhere he went, circling him like vultures measuring their prey.The overwhelming load of work and responsibility, however, weighed on Quinn mentally, physically and emotionally. He was extra overwhelmed by the fact that he had to hire a new pilot and manager and purchase a new plane. Would Antonio or whoever his attacker might be kill off his new pilot and manager again? When would he be able to reach a point when the feeling of being hunted would go away, when he would be able to stop looking over his shoulder, out of the corners of his eyes? Would he ever find peace again? He couldn’t help but to be reminded over and over of the look in Soddy’s eyes during the last couple of weeks of his life.One morning, when his stress seemed to be at a boiling point, Quinn found himself more irritated than usual by the ever-present media waiting outside of his building. He had been returning home from a manager’s office that he was considering hiring, and the media were still there just as they had been when he had left, swarming in the streets like flies waiting for dead meat. He lunged forward at them as they rushed over each other, pressing in on him with cameras, microphones and questions.“Back the hell up off of me, right now!” he exclaimed. He pointed at one young, petite reporter. “I’ll give you a half hour interview, but the rest of you have to get off my property. Real talk.” He turned around to continue walking into the building. The reporter followed him quickly but prettily, not bothering to look at anyone else. She wanted to appear to remain humble.The reporter’s name was Morning Evans, and she was from a popular national magazine called the American Trumpet. She had a quick smile and a soft voice. Quinn took one look at her shiny lips then offered her a refreshment. Morning declined. Instead, she relaxed on the sofa and began questioning Quinn without delay.“Is it safe to call you Quinn or do you prefer the full name of Underrated Works?” Morning asked.Quinn sat on the edge of a seat near where Morning was sitting on the couch. “Either one sounds better at the time is cool. I still represent Underrated Works to the fullest, even in all my shows. But, yes, my name is Quinn, and I am the last living member of the group Underrated Works.”“Yeah, that’s right. So who were the other members that are now deceased? How were you guys connected?”“They were just something like business partners at first, then became close to me like brothers.”“Hm. Like brothers? Didn’t you all live together at the same time, along with a transvestite member of the group? Were there any romantic feelings going on there?”Quinn’s first thought was of backhanding the reporter across her glossy mouth, then he had a sudden mental instant replay of the day he had gotten fired from Skippy-Do-Da’s. Right away, he remembered Mr. Nelms’ advice to think before reacting to opposition. Every action had a reaction, and he would not jeopardize his success. For the first time, he was learning how to sacrifice something new - his pride. “There was a transvestite member of the group, but no, he did not live with us. And there were no romantic dealings or emotions involved with any of us. We wanted the group to be a success, so we focused on our business.”Morning did not bat an eye. “I see. And how did the other members of the group die?”Quinn shifted in his seat. This interview was proving to be more difficult than he had anticipated, and he was beginning to regret allowing it to take place. But Quinn knew the truth of the details would not be able to be hidden or avoided forever. “Tariq was raped and beaten to death. Soddy was strung up by chains and sliced open along the middle of his torso. Nikko was tossed off the roof of a building and landed on top of a car.”“Wow. But then your manager and person pilot were killed, too, when they were aboard your plane and it blew up, am I right?”Quinn’s eyes darted toward the clock, wondering how much longer the interview would last and noticed that only five minutes had passed since the interview had begun. “Yeah, that’s right,” he said. He folded his hands in front of him and cleared his throat.“So what’s your response to the police suspicions that you or someone you know is connected to the murders?”Quinn’s knuckles were white from anger as he gripped his hands together, but he kept his voice calm and at an even tone. “Absolutely ridiculous. I would have never hurt them. Especially Tariq, Nikko and Soddy.”Morning’s mouth opened into a slight smile. “And why is that?”“Because I loved them,” Quinn said and noticed the twinkle in Morning’s eye. He could see that Morning was determined to make his brotherly relationship with Soddy, Nikko and Tariq something other than it was. He jumped up off the chair he was in and motioned toward the front door. “Now if you can get out I would appreciate it. This interview is over.”The man who worked for Morning and had been filming the whole interview began to cut off his video camera, but Morning held up one hand toward him. “Wait just one second, Mr. Jackson. You promised a whole half hour interview.”“That has nothing to do with what I just told you to do. Get out.”The cameraman was already continuing to pack up as the reporter began to gather her notes and tape recorder. “Well, Mr. Jackson, I appreciate what little time you could spare. Good luck with your career… and everything else.” She began heading for the door. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”Quinn continued to stare after them long after the door had been closed, thinking about how wrong the police were about him and wondering how in the world to clear his name and place the blame where it rightfully belonged.************************************For his first solo performance in America that would be broadcasted across the entire globe, Quinn called in on Ian. He was concerned about Ian’s well-being, and he wanted to prove to Ian that he did not have to rot away in the subway tunnels below the streets of the city.Ian had written a large majority of the songs used in Quinn’s show himself and performed them along with a few musician friends of his. The last performance of the show was fairly simple - Ian was the only musician onstage. As Ian played his electric guitar and Quinn danced, the tape that Soddy had made played to the melody of the song over the large overhead speakers. Soddy had ended the tape with one last poem. Ian’s playing and Quinn’s dancing intensified the more they heard the boy reciting his work from beyond the grave.“Gather close to me now./ Release your pain tonight./ I’m always here for you./ I can make it alright./ I know that you are tired./ Sometimes your heart feels weak./ And, little one, I need you/ And want you here with me./ When I created you/ I made you heaven, too./ See, I have never been too far./ My word lives deep in you./ Come closer to me now./ I’ve missed you most of all./ I’ll wrap you up in love/ And never let you fall.”Chapter 30As angry as Quinn was about the fact that he was being considered as a suspect of murdering his friends when in all actuality he needed protection from the real culprit, he knew that he needed to stop procrastinating the inevitable confrontation with Antonio. His career had shielded him from the reality of his life beyond the stage, had given him a legitimate excuse to focus on something else, but Morning’s interview reinforced the fact that he could not hide forever. It was time to take care of the problem once and for all.He searched through Tariq’s purse and found Antonio’s business card. On his cellular phone’s Internet, he looked up the address on the card and headed for the subway tunnels. He had rejected the idea of having his chauffeur drive him into the City of New York, where Antonio lived. This was something that he had to do alone, and he did not want any witnesses. The next thing to expect from that was more public awareness and media questions pertaining to this sensitive portion of his life.Quinn second-guessed himself the entire subway ride into the big city. He was angry and afraid at the same time. He didn’t know what to expect from Antonio, didn’t know how much Antonio knew about him already, didn’t know if it was smart at all to approach someone who had taken the lives or hurt so many of his friends. But there was no one who would believe that someone had created so much damage and still managed to remain a shadow, dark, silent and unnoticed. And Quinn knew that he had to find a way to live in security. His dreams were finally becoming realities, and he knew that simply brushing the issue under the rug and hoping the nightmare would end on its own was just enabling Antonio to jeopardize everything he and his brothers had worked so hard for.The address on the business card led Quinn to a small but impressively decorated home in Queens. Nervously, Quinn walked up to the mailbox and was disturbed to see the last name “Williams” versus “Allen.” After a few minutes of debating with himself, he walked up to the front door, knocked and asked if a Mr. Antonio Allen resided at the address. The pretty young woman looked at him curiously and responded that he did not.Quinn thanked her then strolled to the curb of the street and sat down, trying to think of where to go from here. He pulled out his cell phone once more, noticed that he had six missed calls, four from his new manager, and dismissed the notifications. On the phone’s mobile connection to the Internet, he researched Antonio Allen. The search engine retrieved twenty-seven different Antonio Allens in New York.Sighing, Quinn headed for the first address.He was only able to make it to the first eight homes before he decided to head home, his head hurting and his feet burning. He was frustrated knowing that he would have to neglect his career the next day, as well, in order to continue his hunt. A few of the Antonio Allens he had called upon had either died, identified him as a star and tried to befriend him or simply slammed the door in his face. But none of them had the scar on their faces. None of them were who he had been looking for.The next two days began no differently. Failure after failure met Quinn with each door he knocked on, each doorbell he rang. Unhappily, he trudged toward the subway station in the neighborhood, reflecting on all the fruitless time he had wasted searching for Antonio when there were so many other responsibilities he had to take care of. Back in Holton Terrace after the third day of his hunt, Quinn stepped out into the daylight and out of the subway tunnels. All of a sudden, a young boy in a group of what looked like high schoolers stopped him. “Hey!” the boy called out. Quinn looked up. “Ain’t you that dude Quinn from Underrated Works? I saw you on t.v.!”“Yeah,” Quinn confessed sadly, prepared to sign an autograph or two and send the group of youngsters on their way.The group did, indeed, ask for autographs, but while he was signing, Quinn heard the inner voice in his head again and blurted out, “Do you guys know anybody named Antonio Allen?” He doubted that they did, but Antonio was so heavy on his mind that he found himself asking before he even realized that he was about to.“Man, I know everybody in this area!” the boy exclaimed with pride. “This my ‘hood, son! Come on, I’ll show you where he at.”Quinn followed the group of teenagers to a building that was extremely worn and abandoned-looking. They climbed over the fence that surrounded the territory. Bums and crack heads slept among the piles of trash all over the sandy yard. Briefly, Quinn wondered how they had gotten the grocery carts that littered the yard onto this side of the fence. The building the boy pointed to looked more like a forgotten hospital or jailhouse than it did an apartment building. Dusty brown, it had windows all over that had been busted out by the people who had found it necessary to throw rocks at them. The place looked sad and dangerous at the same time. It gave Quinn the creeps even in the daylight.“We cain’t go all the way in there wit’ you ‘cause we got somewhere to go, but that’s where he live at. He be in the basement. The doors is padlocked, so you gotta crawl through one of the broken windows on da first flo’,” the boy said in a hushed whisper as the group of them gazed at the building with intimidation.“Good lookin’,” Quinn said and began to head for the building and the murderer that lived inside.“Be careful,” he heard one of the other youngsters warn softly from the middle of the group. Quinn kept walking toward the building, thinking about how ironic it was that he had searched for Antonio all over New York City when the man had been right here in Holton Terrace the whole time.He finally reached the front of the building and climbed through one of the broken windows as quietly as he could. The place was a filthy mess with broken glass and large pieces of wood, paper and bottles all over. Graffiti had been sprayed on all the walls - words that made no sense, words of hate, lust and greed, lewd pictures of sex and sexual organs, demonic symbols, smears of what looked like blood, et cetera.As quietly as he could, Quinn searched through the mess for stairs that would lead to the basement. Once he found them, Quinn descended the steps one at a time, still quiet. His eyes searched all around him, although the light faded more and more with each step he took. A rat scuffled over one of his feet, startling him.He reached the floor of the basement and heard the static of a radio in the background. The static was so heavy that he could not make out the words of the host, but he was also not paying much attention. Following the sounds of the static, he looked around at the purple and red raggedy curtains that hung at every turn. The basement seemed to be full of machinery. He couldn’t say what most of the heaps of solid metal were, but he knew that he was appalled that someone had tried to lend the place elegance with the horrible, smelly, dusty curtains that hung between each. The place was a maze more fit for hell.Suddenly, he pulled back one of the filthy, heavy curtains and saw the man sitting in a chair, his back to Quinn. Quietly, Antonio was staring at a floor model television ahead of him. On the television screen, one of Quinn’s most recent videos was playing. Antonio sat so still that Quinn initially believed the man was asleep.And then he spoke. Quinn was immediately taken aback by how calm and silky the murderer’s voice sounded. “So you’ve finally come, Quentin. How delicious.”“You killed my peoples, motherfucker.”Antonio brushed a hand slowly through the air as though gently moving the truth aside. “Out of necessity.”Quinn paused at the blatant confession. Then, with anger, “And now you comin’ for me?”Antonio made the okay sign in the air, bust still did not turn around toward Quinn. “Out of necessity. I actually like you very much. You are an extremely admirable young man. Very skilled, very… sexy. But also very dangerous to me. You did not lie to the young lady I saw you with the night before you allowed me to take your first pilot and manager to distant lands.“You see, ever since I first began going to the Ricochet Nightclub, I had always been interested in Tariq. I really did believe that he was genuine, that I could please him and his open honesty could please me in return. But Lady Diabolique would not give me a chance. He was a user. He only wanted me because of the money and the perks that I was receiving from Mr. Javell McCoy for the granting of sexual pleasures. He never even noticed my heart, my kindness or my sincere passion for him. So I paid off a few friends to kill him. Denying me anything I demand is never a… a very smart thing to do.“But then there was the problem of the musician fellow. Ian, I believe his name is. An exceptionally difficult man to contact or persuade. He was present at the party where I paid to have Tariq murdered. And there was the possibility that he could identity me to the police as the last person he saw Tariq with before his untimely demise. And so, since I could not find him directly, I paid a group of thugs to simply deliver a message to his lovely, fiery girlfriend to deliver to him for me.“It did not work, however, as you well know. Unfortunately, the musician just had to give Soddy that damned purse Tariq had put my business card in. I know because my good friend Javell told me he had seen Soddy with it the day you boys hurt him and asked him all those intruding questions concerning my identity and my whereabouts. On top of that, Soddy knew that I had been dating Tariq at the time of his death.“And thus Soddy had to be taken care of, as well. The night I took his life and left him as a warning for you and his god of a brother, I searched for that purse but could not find it before the two of you came home. I must admit, it was a very tense few hours that I waited in your closet for the police to leave and for you and Nikko to finally go to sleep so that I could sneak out of that small shoebox studio of an apartment.“I meant to tell you, also, dear boy, I am very proud of your new apartment and your rapid success. I like to tell myself that I had a large influence over your drive to press forward in spite of your deep losses. That is usually the case when one feels that their life is nearing an end.“But, alas, look at me. I am getting diverted from my initial train of thought. We were just beginning to discuss Soddy’s beautiful brother Nikko, were we not? And beautiful he was, in spite of his harsh manner of behaving. It was such a shame that I had to throw him over the ledge of that roof, but he was like a trapped rat when he discovered me in the apartment my second time searching for that business card. There were so many times that I had imagined tasting his body and lips, just once. But that incident ruined any chances of that happening. Oh, but yet and still, I could never forget how warm and hard his body felt underneath mine right before I gave him that fatal flip to the other side.“The pain and frustration of that great loss of an opportunity overwhelmed me. I can admit to that now. And that, in combination with the frustration of still never being able to find that card was what made me blow up your pretty new airplane. I could never risk the chance that you may have found the card before I could.”Antonio chuckled. “But that is exactly what happened, is it not, young stallion? Somehow, I knew it would. I could feel it in my bones, in my soul. And so I moved here, where I thought I would never be found. Besides, after you and your friends had the Ricochet closed down and poor Javell no longer had the money to spoil me with, I could not afford my house any longer.“So, you see, you are very dangerous, Mr. Jackson, just as you told the young whore I hired to occupy you while I murdered your bodyguard and manager. That is why I must show you the utmost respect. You and your friends have managed to take away a piece of my pride, my dreams of someday experiencing intimacy with Nikko or Tariq, (may they rest in peace), and my money and my home without even realizing it. No one has ever been able to do so much damage to me and live. Not even the homophobic man at the club that sliced my face when I grabbed his groin eight years ago.“Therefore, considering what great damage you have caused you, too, must die.”Chapter 31Quinn had been so certain that he had learned and grown so much that the Mr. Jackson that his previous supervisor, Mr. Nelms had known no longer existed. Mr. Nelms had known the rebellious, irresponsible Quinn that had reacted without giving consideration to the consequences of his actions. His mentality had been to express himself, tact and protocol and respect be damned.His journey had taught him, however, that his real problem was the way that he instantly took for granted the love and brotherhood that he had been blessed with during the time when he needed it the most. Internally, he realized that his initial faith in them was lacking because of the fact that they had been homeless and did not have anyone or anything. He also now realized that this evaluation of them also reflected how he felt about himself, and that in order to correct this way of thinking, he had to open his eyes to who they were and who he was himself. And even when he had grown to at least be open enough to trust his newfound brothers, he had still been way too focused on building his career and less focused on the success he had right in front of his face. He had grown to a point where he thought less of these values and thought more about the attention he would receive when he finally “made it big.”To Quinn, the fact that he had made it to the bright lights of show business made him feel just slightly conceited. He no believed that he could be stopped, no longer believed that he could be hurt ever again. Being rich and famous had given him the illusion of security, and he was prepared to defend its strength. He was subconsciously placing more faith in the power that his fame and fortune had brought him than in the survival of the love, passion and friendship that had brought him the height of his dreams.A small voice had been challenging him ever since even before he had begun his quest to find Antonio. Why sacrifice where you are now to confront the demon of your past?, the voice wanted to know. Shouldn’t you be enjoying the fact that you made it instead and forget about who killed who? After all, what do you propose to do about it with no weapon to fight back with, not even the law itself?But Quinn was angry. And tired. This much was understandable. It was commendable that he was not one to run away. He wanted to defend the honor of those he loved and would not back down even when it seemed most convenient for him. What was ridiculous was the lack of planning that he had done. Once again, his emotions had thrust him into a spiral of thoughtless action, which never failed to make things more difficult and painful than they had to be if only he would learn to slow down and exercise some sort of discipline and self-control.Therefore, overwhelmed with emotion, Quinn threw all caution aside and rushed up to Antonio as the man was sitting with his back to him. Wrapping his left arm around Antonio’s neck, he started punching Antonio in the soft spot at the center of his head with his right fist. With each punch, he said through gritted teeth, “You killed my peoples and then threaten my life, nigga?!”With both hands, Antonio reached up, grabbed Quinn’s hair and flipped him over and onto the television. The picture on the television instantly went dark and silent. Because Quinn had refused to relax his grip around Antonio’s neck even as he was being flipped through the air by his hair, Antonio wound up falling into the television screen. Although his back was hurting from the impact with the television, Quinn wrestled with Antonio, the two of them fighting in the small space between the television set and Antonio’s chair.“I will never be beaten,” Antonio seethed, delivering punch after punch into Quinn’s face. “Especially not by a group of faggot-loving teenagers.” His face was red and distorted as Quinn’s grip around his neck tightened.Quinn took a chunk of Antonio’s soft scalp between his teeth and bit down as hard as he could, pulling his head back in attempt to tear away flesh. Antonio let out a loud, high-pitched scream. “What you think you is then, you bitter bitch?” Quinn spat.Antonio elbowed him in the ribs with great force.His arm still tight around Antonio’s neck, Quinn rolled over until he was sitting on top of him. Antonio kept trying to lift his head, but Quinn kept punching him in the back of it. With each punch, the man’s forehead kept cracking against the cement ground until Quinn could see a puddle of blood beginning to form.Quinn pulled his fist back to strike him again, then noticed that Antonio had stopped trying to lift his head. The man just laid there beneath him, still and quiet. The scar on his face puckered up at Quinn like a large insect.For a moment, Quinn panicked. Was he dead? Quinn didn’t want to turn into anything like Antonio. Antonio was a murderer, and Quinn felt that if he had murdered Antonio in the name of revenge, he would just be taking his place. He would, in essence, be no better than this man he found so repulsive. Some would say that the difference between the two of them was that Quinn actually had a valid reason to resort to such drastic measures, but Quinn himself knew that Antonio and those like him would most likely use the same excuse for themselves. And, again, he did not want to be like Antonio at all. A little shaken and nervous, Quinn slowly stood up and began heading for the stairs on rubbery legs.Hearing a rustle behind him, Quinn whirled around, only to be tackled by a wild-looking, bloody-faced Antonio, who had a knife in his hand. Quinn landed on his back next to one of the bulky machines that looked like furnaces or boilers. Antonio pounced on top of him to sit on Quinn‘s waistline, and Quinn had to quickly reach up and grab Antonio’s wrist as the man tried to plunge the knife downward into his face. “Oooohhh.” Antonio rotated his hips on top of Quinn, moaning as though he was enjoying it. “This is gonna be good. I’ve waited patiently for so long for the moment to kill you,” he whispered into his face. “Ever since you and your little twinkle ass friends shut down the Ricochet and fucked up my money.”Quinn’s arms began to burn from trying to keep the man from succeeding in bringing the knife blade down upon him. He looked up into Antonio’s crazed, bloodshot eyes and knew that if he did not think fast, he was going to die.“You can always get paid to slurp some more dick, pussy boy,” Quinn said through his gritted teeth, then thrust his strong dancer’s hips upward, causing Antonio to fly forward. His already-injured head connected with the big hunk of metal beside them, and Antonio rolled off of him, dropping the knife and holding his head.Quinn leaped up and began to run for the stairs, hoping to lead Antonio out into the open, where he would have a better fighting chance, some opportunity to get help and a way to find a weapon, even if it was one of the huge broken pieces of wood or glass lying on the ground on the upper level.As he was stumbling over the mess, trying to run up the steps as fast as he could, he heard and felt something suddenly zip past his right ear and shatter into the wall next to him, splattering pieces of wood and plaster into his face like a mist from hell. Instantly, he realized that he was being shot at and turned around for some reason.The next bullet burned through his flesh and lodged itself deep into his right ribcage, sending him flying backward and into a sea of pitch black oblivion.************************************Dressed as one of the many homeless wanderers outside of the miserable, abandoned building where he was living, Antonio wrapped Quinn’s body in a large black tarp and dropped it into the shopping cart. He pushed the shopping cart toward Government Gardens as though he had no worries and all the time in the world. Whistling the tune to the video of Quinn he had been watching on the television screen before Quinn’s confrontation, he stopped every now and then to sloppily execute one or two of Quinn’s dance moves then throw back his head in a loud, wailing laugh.Moments later, he was within the mazes of Government Gardens, in a corner of the beautiful park where there was nobody else to witness him dump the body carelessly among the bushes and flowers. As the birds twittered and flew above his head, Antonio took great pleasure in licking Quinn’s blood from his hands like a zesty sauce.************************************Light surrounded him, and voices - so many, so strong that they took his breath away.Quinn did not move or speak, trapped in the power of the wondrous voices, the warmth of the light, the comforting feel of ultimate peace and love. For a moment, there was nothing else, not even a memory of what used to be or a question of how he got here, where he was or what would come next. He was satisfied in the knowledge that he had made it here, this magnificent place that he knew must be Heaven.And then, as though his eyes were adjusting to the brilliance of the light, he saw a legion of angels coming into focus. They were all singing and dancing in glistening, colorful robes, so many that he could not distinguish one from another. And in their lead were four of the people he loved most - his mother, Soddy, Nikko and Tariq. They danced in sync with the angels, their eyes closed in an utter passion and ecstasy that went far beyond the physical.“Go back,” he heard Nanny Ruth’s voice say from beside him suddenly. “We love you. And we’ll be with you forever and ever. We are safe. And, oh, baby, we are happy. And proud of you! But, Quinn, now is not your time.” Before Quinn could turn his head toward Nanny Ruth and respond that he wanted to stay here, she and the white light were gone.Chapter 32By the time Quinn’s body had been found and the ambulance had been called to the scene and rushed him to Saint Ezekiel’s Hospital, Quinn had lost so much blood that he had initially been pronounced dead, only to come to on his own moments later. As the medical staff worked frantically to revive him, the media flocked to the scene, eating up every detail as if it were the precise moment they had been waiting hopefully for. Once the news had been shared with the public, the group of teenagers that had given Quinn directions to the abandoned structure that Antonio was living in rushed forward to tell everyone how they had “hung out” with Quinn and how they knew who had “popped” him. The news cameras cut off right before the group of teens could start their juvenile spiels about how “Antonio had better watch his back” because he was “next.”During his investigation of the shooting, Officer Haines tracked down the group of teens and had them show him the building they had taken Quinn to just a couple of hours before he was found shot in Government Gardens. Upon further inspection of the premises, the authorities found a collection of photographs, video tapes and newspaper clippings of all four boys from Underrated Works, including a knife with Soddy’s blood caked on its blade. The FBI tracked Antonio down at the airport just as he was about to board a plane for Mexico.The authorities ordered a delay in the plane’s departure and flocked to the airport in pursuit of the murderer. Surrounding the terminal with Antonio inside, they had the man cornered and announced that he should surrender himself. Instead of obliging, he grabbed an innocent bystander, one Caucasian woman with a family on her way out of the country on a business trip. He put the same pistol that he had shot Quinn with to the woman’s head and threatened to blow her brains clean out unless the police get off his ass. Unfortunately for him, he did not notice the officers enter the plane from its belly and approach him from behind. He was gunned down and killed, no longer to be a threat to anyone’s life ever again.************************************Once the doctors had resuscitated Quinn and brought him back to the realm of the living, they placed him into his own hospital bed, fed him and allowed the two people alive who were the closest to family that he had - Ian and Jazmine - to visit with him. As they watched the whole fiasco at the airport unfold on the local news channel in silence, Quinn couldn’t help but to feel not only relief that he was now officially free to live without fear of Antonio but also pity for Antonio. In his mind, he knew that it was ironic and maybe even a little silly for him to pity the man who had murdered his friends and attempted to also take his life, but he couldn’t help thinking about the sickness, hate and desperation that must have plagued the man until his dying day. All along, there had never been any peace for a man like Antonio and no hope of ever creating any. There was nowhere he could have turned to, no one who could help him escape from his own prison of misery. This is why he had spread so much unhappiness and attempted to cover it up with charm. It was all he knew, all he was and all he had. He would have never, not in all of his years, find the place where he wanted to be. He had just died in front of millions of viewers, but even while he was alive, his soul had already died and been burning in hell.Not quite knowing the words he needed to express these thoughts, he instead said aloud, “I guess now we’ll never know who the assholes were that he paid off to help him fuck up so many lives.”“Oh, I was already working on that,” Jazmine said, adjusting her large breasts with a toss of her head. “All of them were partygoers and club hoppers. And all it took was a handful of bartending friends of mine to get a few people drunk and get them to talking in order to track down the sons of bitches one by one. And when you can slip a lethal drug or two into a murderous bastard’s drink and slip these dirty ass cops a few grand under the table, you’d be surprised at how easy it is to get even with those who have crossed you the wrong way. That part is already taken care of.”Jazmine gave Quinn a quick wink, and Ian smiled up at her, pulled her onto his lap and planted a kiss on her cheek.“But there’s still one thing I don’t understand,” Quinn said, looking down thoughtfully at his bed sheets. “Why go after my first pilot and manager?”“Oh, come on, Quinn,” Ian said, looking at him impatiently.The answer popped up in Quinn’s mind, and he blushed, automatically regretting asking the foolish question, even as Jazmine said, “He thought you were with them, of course. I mean, you were supposed to be, right?”Quinn nodded. “Yeah. But I had a long night the night before with a sexy groupie I met in the lobby of the hotel I was staying at that night.”Ian and Jazmine smiled knowingly and nodded. “Speaking of groupies,” Jazmine said, “You should have seen the crowd of people in the hospital lobby and parking lot on our way up here.”“Not to mention the media,” Ian threw in. “Thanks to you, I have the media and my own group of fans following me around ever since that last show we did together. As a matter of fact, I have a couple of offers from some really famous bands who want me onboard.”Quinn perked up. “Really? That’s good news, Ian! Congratulations!”“Yeah, I’m meeting with one of the bands next week. I’m excited as hell.”“Well, don’t be surprised when I’m there for your first show, right in the front row.”“Oh, brother, you just don’t be surprised when you get a call from our group asking you to dance onstage for us.”“I’ll be ready.”Just then, the same prissy nurse that had shown Quinn, Nikko and Soddy to Jazmine’s hospital room a few months earlier opened up the door to Quinn’s hospital room. She opened it wide without a word. A group of her fellow nurses entered the room, their arms filled with bags of letters, balloons and flowers.“These came from all of your friends in the lobby downstairs,” the nurse told Quinn testily as the other nurses began setting up his gifts around the room and left. He noticed that her lipstick was smeared and her hair was ruffled and stifled a smile as he realized how difficult here day had been trying to restrain the visiting crowd from entering the hospital past the waiting area. The nurse cut her eyes toward Ian and Jazmine. “In ten minutes, I’ll have to ask you two to say your goodbyes and excuse yourselves so that Mr. Jackson’s dressings may be changed.” Without another word, she sniffed, lifted her nose into the air and exited the room.Ian looked up at Jazmine, his brow furrowed. “Hey. You smell mothballs?”Later that day, after Ian and Jazmine had gone over some of the fan mail with him, hugged him, given him their own wishes for a speedy recovery and left, after the prissy nurse had come in, re-dressed his bullet wound and fed him, Quinn sat up in his hospital bed and watched a television show. During the commercial breaks, he was a little surprised still to see commercials advertising “Quinn dolls” and the date and time that his performances would next be aired on that particular channel.As dusk began to settle over Holton Terrace, Quinn sat up on the side of his bed, grimacing from the pain that shot up the right side of his body. He rested a moment, regaining his composure, thinking to himself that from now on he would definitely start thinking first before reacting. Suddenly, from outside his window, he heard laughter, cheers, music and applause in Lilac Park, the city park across the street from Saint Ezekiel’s Hospital.Hating the pain of struggling to stand but curious, he stood upright and made his way to the window. In the middle of the park, he could see a crowd gathered around a group of what looked like thirteen- or fourteen-year-olds, clapping and cheering. The teenagers were dancing to the music booming from a nearby parked car. The car’s doors and windows were open, and the system sent a lot of bass through the speakers.Quinn stared at the teenagers, holding back his own cheer. Here in Holton Terrace, he had seen people being robbed, beaten, evicted, shot and even murdered. But right now, at this moment, he saw people dancing, enjoying themselves, enjoying their lives. In spite of all, dreams were still coming true.But the more Quinn watched, he noticed something that made him want to cry. They were repeating the choreography from his last routine with Nikko, Soddy and Tariq.EpilogueHe had been dreaming of Nanny Ruth and Ledesa again. When he came back to the world of reality, he was grateful to know that he still had them in his heart, surrounding his soul with life and love.But at this moment he was awake. He had awaken long before sunrise, and although he had not been able to squeeze more than a few hours’ of sleep out of the night before, the churning of his mind kept him from thinking about rest. Now, as he sat along the shoreline of the beach watching the sun undress, he reflected on his dream once more. As though showing an admiring friend a locket that held his favorite picture, he kept replaying the women’s smiling faces, their tender kisses and warm embraces over and over again in his mind. He kept remembering how Ledesa had wrapped her arms around the backs of Nikko’s, Soddy’s and Tariq’s necks and laughed with them, how happy they were together, how wide Nanny Ruth’s smile was as she grabbed him by his shoulders and looked at him as though he were a living prize. “Y’ did good, boy. Y’ did real good,” she had told him.Every time he recalled the dream, he had to smile. Out of all his newfound fortunes and fame, this dream was now his most treasured belonging.The doctors at Saint Ezekiel’s had let him out of the hospital finally after three weeks of recuperation and rehabilitation. They had warned him that he would have to put dancing aside for a few more months, which he was slightly disappointed about, but he was so anxious to get out of the confining hospital that he was willing to agree to anything. That had been two weeks ago, and he was feeling much better with less pain in his ribcage, but he still chose to take the doctors’ advice and refrain from overexerting himself too much. He noticed that the more he moved, the more the bullet wound seemed to become irritated. He knew he had not healed completely yet and was not even sure if he ever would, but he sure was glad that the damage had not been anywhere near fatal.Still, even with so many blessings and so much to be grateful for, he felt a twinge of pain tucked away deep in his heart. He ached for his Nanny Ruth still, to see and to have and to talk with her in more than just dreams, for his mama Ledesa, for his brothers Nikko, Soddy and Tariq, for the times they had shared, both good and bad, for his first pilot and manager, for Jazmine, who had been beaten as a result of being tied to his and his brothers’ problem, for Mr. McCoy, whose business had been shut down because he had unknowingly been connected with a murderer, and even ironically for Antonio who had obviously led such a miserable, lonely life only to die a miserable, horrible death. Quinn was intelligent enough to know that he did not everything, but one thing he did know was that a person can never run too far or too fast that they would be able to escape the consequences of the things they had done. He understood Mr. Temple’s advice now, and he had come to learn the importance of choosing one’s reactions wisely. Never again, he promised himself, would he sacrifice his control over how a situation would end in exchange for an immature response that would only bring temporary satisfaction. From now on, he knew he had to have a plan of action in order to ensure success. He had been given more than one second chance within the past year and a half, and he could not allow himself to take any of those chances for granted.That was one thing Soddy had been right about. Tariq had a way about him that made one want to live the way he did. Maybe not the feminine wiles and clothing he wore to his performances but the way he loved to enjoy every moment of every day. Perhaps he took enjoyment too far at times, but he never let fear or consequences stand in the way of laughing, loving and living, even when it meant experiencing something new. Just as the teenagers and the rest of the people in Lilac Park across the street from the hospital had chosen to do that day. For Tariq, that sort of exciting, free, celebratory spirit had become a natural part of life. Life has so many negative connotations that enjoying himself seemed to create a balance that made all of the heartache actually bearable, helped it to actually make sense.And then there had been Nikko, who also loved to live life and enjoy it to the fullest, only in his own unique, boisterous way. He might not have always been so willing to explore new territory, which was also a virtue in certain situations, because it showed that he knew exactly who he was and where to draw his boundaries. But his passion and thirst for excitement, fun and laughter was something that could never be forgotten or discredited.Even Soddy had taught Quinn something about life at a time when he thought he knew it all. Soddy had taught him that being cool didn’t always mean having to be tough or macho. A man who is nice or easygoing or had an innocent heart is, at the end of the day, still a man. And, in many ways, such a man could be considered stronger and more disciplined than the so-called “tough guy” who, in all actuality, could never fully control himself or the surroundings and people around him.And so Quinn had combined all of the lessons that he had learned from his brothers to come to the conclusion that it was more than a little important for one to find an even, middle ground in approaching life. As imperative as it is to be strong in today’s world, regardless of whether one may be male or female, no one could really learn to appreciate or even truly trust a bully. And as equally important as it was to keep a cool, level head at all times, one could never go through life without learning how to take a stand for themselves and what they believe in at some point in their lives. Which meant that not only do people have to teach themselves how to walk softly yet carry a big stick, but one must also train themselves to determine when to use that big stick. One must learn how to pick their battles, as Nanny Ruth used to always say to him at a time when he did not understand so much. And in order to do this, one had to become accustomed to thinking for themselves and weighing their options.As Quinn sat there by the shore of the ocean, contemplating alone and watching the waves roll up to the shore, his mind wandered over memories of the past year. Not just the many hours of performing and practicing with his three brothers, going over dance routines until their arms, legs and feet were sore, but also all the hours the four of them had spent together offstage. As the sound of the waves helped to cool the burning pain in his chest, Quinn reminisced about the first night that he met Nikko and Soddy.With a chuckle, he thought about how Nikko had reacted to seeing the studio apartment for the first time.He thought about himself, Nikko and Soddy dancing to Ian’s rhythms in the subway tunnels beneath Government Gardens.He thought about how long it took him to trust them, only to discover in the end that they were the closest friend he had ever had.He thought about the first time they had met Tariq, standing in the studio looking like a bourgeoisie woman, flicking cigarette ashes onto the floor.He thought about all the drinks he, Nikko, Soddy and Tariq had shared at the Ricochet and how little he would have believed that his time with them was as limited as it was.He remembered how Tariq had barged back into the studio apartment with a joke and a blunt after exchanging a few heated words with Nikko about Soddy’s whereabouts during the night. He had to laugh aloud at the memory.He remembered the hot tears that the boys had shed once they found out about Tariq’s murder.He remembered the group’s first photo shoot, their first interview, their performance with Katherine Baker.He remembered how the boys jumped to Jazmine and Tariq’s defense without hesitation when they began to suspect that Mr. McCoy was the one behind their attacks.He thought about finding Soddy and Nikko on the nights of their deaths.He thought about how he and Nikko had almost battled when they began to argue about Nikko’s destructive behavior but how they still loved each other through it all.Standing up and walking to the limousine that would take him back to his mansion on the other side of the beach, he thought about his current success.Dancing had helped him make his dreams a reality, he concluded, but it was love that had made him a man. ................
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